What Lies Outside
by Elizzykay
Summary: Sequel to Within. Cleo and the rest of the Gladers have escaped the maze, thrusted into a world of ally and foe and all new dangers. Thomas/OC
1. We're Safe Now

**Here it is! The sequel to Within! If you haven't read the first story you can find it on my profile. You don't have to read it necessarily, but to know the character a little better I would advise it.**

 **I know it doesn't seem like much but Im actually pretty proud of myself for sticking with this story for so long and actually continuing it. There have been moments where I've been completely unmotivated to write or just can't find the words to form the story I want to, but I'm so excited to see where Cleo goes and I hope you guys are too!**

 **So, as always thanks for checking my story out, for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following. You guys are so very lovely! Enjoy! Xx**

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It wasn't what she excepted when they told the remaining teens they were going home. The large facility, standing alone in the middle of the barren wasteland seemed anything but homely. Her body ached, reminding her just how long they had been cramped in the back of the helicopter, leaning against one another. A few of them were still sleeping, but she hadn't been as lucky. She hadn't slept long before nightmares snaked their way into her mind, forcing her awake. She sat in silence for the remainder of the trip, eyes staring blankly at the wall across from her. She had watched the sunset, the heat still radiating inside the small metal box they were seated in. She was more than thrilled when they announced their landing.

"Newt," She shook the boy on her left, careful not to startle him too bad, "We're here."

He yawned in response, turning to examine their surroundings. The door was opened and she was forced into the humid night air before she had a chance to wake Thomas, who had been using her shoulder as a pillow. The sand beneath her feet was hot even through her shoes and the air cut at her skin. She didn't fight the man that placed a hand on her back, guiding her towards the large building. She didn't have the energy. Teresa was on her right; they looked at one another briefly before a voice echoed over the wind.

"Cranks! We got Cranks!"

Cleo could barely make out what she assumed were humans coming over the mountain ridges behind them. They ran with uncalculated steps, stumbling over themselves. Something about them was off putting even though she couldn't see them entirely. The men around them starting firing their guns, dropping the advancing Cranks. She was shoved towards the building with more urgency and soon enough she was running, slipping in the sand before her feet hit a platform and she stumbled inside. Her friends surrounded her, just as confused as she was. Thomas was the last to enter, just before the door closed, blocking out the sounds of gunfire.

They turned and looked at the large room around them. It was a warehouse of sorts, people working on a million different things, completely unfazed by the new arrivals. They stepped closer together, Cleo's hand finding Thomas's as a group of men approached.

"This way." One instructed, and slowly, they followed after him.

They were placed in a room, turning to object with the men that slammed the door behind them. It was Frypan that got them to shut up, pointing out the array of food. Cleo's stomach growled, mouth watering at the sight of the steaming meal. She stepped around Frypan, the first to reach the table and took a large bite out of whatever was in the first bowl. The moan that escaped her mouth was enough for the others to rush the table. They crowded around it, not bothering to sit down, and began shoveling food onto plates. Minho drank straight from the pitcher in front of him, passing it on to Cleo who waited impatiently. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips as Teresa tossed a piece of bread towards Newt. He was momentarily appalled before tossing scraps from his own plate. This began a short food fight, earning genuine laughs from the teens before they got their fill. They settled around the room, taking a moment to actually relax. Cleo leaned back on her elbows, legs bent over Thomas's like a tent of sorts. She hid a yawn with the back of her hand, listening to the others talk quietly. The door opening made them all jump their feet.

A man in his late thirties, early forties was standing in the door way. He smiled at them with what Cleo figured was supposed to be kindness but she wasn't going to get her hopes up. She stood silently beside Teresa, eyeing the man with distrust.

"You kids doing all right?" He asked, getting no response from the teens in front of him, "Sorry about all the fuss. We had ourselves a bit of a swarm."

"Who are you?" Thomas interjected. His shoulders were tense. He didn't trust the man either.

The man's smile never faltered, only grew slightly, "I'm the reason you're all still alive. It's my intention to keep you that way. Now, come with me. We'll get you kids squared away."

He disappeared around the doorway, giving the teens a moment to look at one another. Cleo gave Thomas a nod, reminding him that they were following him now, and he stepped forward.

"You can call me, Mr. Jansen. I run this place," They were taken through the warehouse once again, dodging sparks and power lines, "For us it is a sanctuary, safe from the horrors of the outside world. You should all think of it as a way station. Kind of a home between homes."

Minho and Cleo raised an eyebrow at one another. By the looks of it, no one believed the man. Which, in the long run, might help them. But for now, they would keep their mouths shut, see where things went. Maybe they were wrong.

"That means you're taking us home?" Thomas inquired.

Jansen looked back at him, the same shit-eating grin on his face, "A home of sorts. Sadly, there wouldn't be much left of wherever you came from. But we do have a place for you. A refuge, outside the Scorch, where Wicked will never find you again."

Again, Minho and Cleo exchanged a look. This one held a tinge of disbelief. After all they had been through, it was hard to believe they were completely safe. At least for now.

"Why are you helping us?" Cleo questioned as Jansen stopped in front of another door.

His eyes flickered to her and she felt immediately uncomfortable, moving to shield herself somewhat behind Thomas's shoulder.

"Let's just say the world out there is in a rather precarious situation. We're all hanging on by a very thin thread. The fact that kids can survive the Flare virus," His eyes never moved from her, "Makes you the best chance of humanity's continued survival. Unfortunately, it also makes you a target as no doubt by now you've noticed."

Cleo scoffed, looking away from their tour guide. Teresa nudged her shoulder, a silent 'be nice' and she rolled her eyes. There was no way in hell she'd trust this guy. Or this place.

Jansen didn't seem to notice her amusement in the entire thing, and if he did, he had chosen to ignore it. Swiping a card into the small box at his hip, the door behind him slid open.

"First things first. Let's do something about that smell."

They were led down long white hallways, almost never ending. Teresa and Cleo were directed to the right, while the boys were directed left. Once separated, the girls followed a woman not much older than them into the bathroom. They were met with the strong scent of something floral, familiar but hard to put a finger on. Both were given a change of clothes, a bar of soap and a small tube of shampoo.

"If you need anything I'll be just outside." The woman gave them a smile, ducked her head and disappeared back outside.

Exchanging a look, the girls began peeling off their dirty clothes, stepping into their respective showers. The warm water was enough to make Cleo cry and she wanted to drown herself in it. She took her time scrubbing at her skin, rising the dirt and blood from underneath her fingernails. Washing her hair felt the best. She lathed her head up with the floral smelling shampoo, taking longer than necessary to massage her scalp. As the soap ran down her shoulders and to the ground she took a deep breath. She had been able to wash the last few days off her body even if she couldn't wash it from her mind.

Teresa was already dressed when she shut off her water, wrapping the plush towel around her body and stepping into the room.

"You should have someone look at your ankle when you get a chance." The brunette commented, pointing at said ankle.

Cleo looked down, finally getting a good look at the bruised skin. It was still swollen. She scrunched up her nose in disgust and plopped herself down on the bench in the middle of the room.

"It's just a sprain. I just need to ice it for a bit. I'll be fine."

Teresa gave her a pointed look, ringing the rest of the water out of her hair, "You can relax now, Cleo. We're safe."

"For now." The blonde mumbled back.

Teresa didn't respond, turning to fix her hair in the mirror behind her while Cleo got dressed again. After a few minutes, the woman returned, smiling when she saw both girls were ready. With a wave of her hand, she guided them out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The boys weren't around, either still inside or already at the next destination.

The two girls were separated once they reached the medical ward, though Cleo could still see her friend across the room. Behind the blue curtain separating them she could hear Newt on her right and Thomas on her left. Minho was situated catty-corner from her, running at a steady pace on a treadmill. Wires were hooked to his arms and up under his shirt on his chest, monitoring him as he ran. He gave Cleo a grin when he saw her staring and she tried to mimic the gesture. The needle in her arm was really putting a damper on her already bad mood. She had watched the man stick it underneath her skin, which had been the setting off point. If she hadn't seen him do it, she wouldn't even notice it was there. But she had, and she could definitely feel the cold needle just below her skin, pumping in all the nutrients she had been deprived of for the last three years.

"All done." The man was cheery. Around the same age as Jansen, but his smile felt genuine. He gave her a small pat on the leg and twisted around in his chair towards the clip board on the counter behind him.

He scanned over the paperwork and turned back to her, "So I heard from a little bird, that you've got an injured ankle."

Cleo's eyes glanced from him to Teresa across from her. The brunette gave her a mischievous look before a female doctor closed the curtains around her.

Her leg was lifted, propped up so that she was leaning back. She stared at the ceiling above her, fluorescent lights irritating her eyes. The doctor had moved his chair to sit at her feet, examining the bruised area as tenderly as he could. Each time Cleo hissed in pain, he would pull away sharply and apologize. Finally, he moved away, rising her back into the sitting position.

"It is just a simple sprain." Cleo smirked to herself, silently sending a _I told you so_ Teresa's way, "We will need to have you rest it for a bit, put some ice on it. Okay?"

Cleo nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable seat. Her friends had long since left and she was growing antsy. Even Teresa had been escorted out. She was alone, with a room full of strangers.

"Jameson," The woman that had previously been with Teresa appeared around the curtain, wearing a large smile, genuine but still untrustworthy, "Cleo. I'm Dr. Crawford," She reached out to shake the young girl's hand, "We're going to move you to a more comfortable place, give your ankle some time to rest."

"What about my friends? Where are they?"

Dr. Crawford's smile remained and she helped lift the girl from the chair, "You will see them again shortly. First, how about a couple pain killers for your ankle, hm?"


	2. I Want To See My Friends

Thomas stepped into the cafeteria not sure what to expect. The number of kids, boys and girls, chatting animatedly around the room was definitely not his first thought. A smile grew faintly on his lips. Maybe they were actually safe.

"Hey, Thomas!" Minho's familiar face appeared. He was smiling, greeting Thomas happily.

"What's going on?" The boy continued to stare at the teens seated at tables.

Minho's smile grew, "We weren't the only Maze. Come on."

They weaved through tables until reaching Newt, Winston, and Frypan. Thomas immediately noticed the absence of their two girls, but couldn't get the question out as the other two kids sitting with them got to what he assumed was the climax of their story.

"And there was this big, loud explosion, and these guys came out of nowhere. Starting shooting up the place." One explained.

The other nodded along, "It was intense. They pulled us out of the Maze and brought us here."

"What about the rest?" Thomas asked, "The other people left behind in the Maze, what happened to them?"

The boys shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess Wicked still has them."

"How long have you guys been here?" Minho scooped the remaining food from his plate, stuffing his face.

"Not long. Just a day or two," The one of the left replied, turning in his seat to point at a kid sitting by himself, "That kid over there has been here the longest. Almost a week."

"His Maze was nothing but girls." The other added.

"Really?"

"Some guys have all the luck." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Cleo and Teresa came to Thomas's mind and again he wanted to ask his friends, but again was interrupted. This time by Jansen, who had stepped into the room with a couple of guards.

"Good evening, gentleman. Ladies. If you hear your name called, please rise in an orderly fashion, join my colleagues behind me, where they will escort you to the eastern wing," His eyes found Thomas briefly, "Your new lives are about to begin."

He began reading off a list of names. Those called jumped up eagerly, saying goodbye to their friends and lining up against the far wall. The new arrivals watched on with confusion as the last few names were called.

"Now, now, don't get discouraged. If I could take more, I would. There's always tomorrow. Your time will come."

And then he was walking out, the line of lucky teens following behind him.

"Where are they going?"

"Far from here. Lucky bastards," the boys returned to looking at one another, "Some kind of farm. A safe place. They can only take in a couple of people at a time."

Something moved in the corner of Thomas's eye and he turned to see Teresa in the hallway outside. Leaping from his seat, he called out to her, getting her attention just as she disappeared from view. He was stopped by a guard, forced back with a shove.

"Where are they taking her?" He asked, struggling against the stronger man.

"They just have to run a few more tests. Don't worry, they'll be done with her soon."

The man was trying to be reassuring but Thomas was already worked up, "Is she okay?"

"She's fine." The man kept his voice calm.

"What about Cleo? The other girl that we were with. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Where is she?"

With another slight push, Thomas stopped fighting.

The man sighed, "She's resting. Both girls are fine. You'll see them soon."

" _You must be careful, my little bean." Her mother stood before her, face hidden by a bright light. She could make out her hair, brown, curly like her own. Her hands were cupping her face. They were standing in a small room, no windows to give away their exact location. Cleo couldn't shake the claustrophobic feeling twisting and tightening her insides._

" _It's too dangerous for you to be acting this way." Her mother's voice had changed in tone. She was scolding her now, the hands on her face making sure that the young girl was truly understanding her mother's words._

" _I can't watch them go through this. Not anymore. They're my friends." She kept her voice strong, swallowing down the whimper that wanted to escape. She had watched to many of her friends leave, only to reappear days later, in the Maze, wiped of any memory besides their name. The name they were given._

" _Promise me you won't do anything." Her mother sighed._

 _And then, her mother was gone. Wide, brown eyes, framed by thick lashes. She knew them. She had seen them before. Thomas stood in front of her. His mannerisms were filled with fear, his mouth parted in disbelief._

" _They're coming for me. You have to stop them, Thomas," She begged him, stepping closer to him, "Promise me, you won't let anyone else die."_

 _Voices down the hall cut into the conversation. Time had run out. This was it. Her chin quivered as she held back tears and she took another step forward. Wrapping a hand around the back of Thomas's neck she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his. He deepened the kiss almost immediately, hands resting on her hips before she was ripped away from him._

" _Promise me, Thomas!" She yelled before her vision began to blur. The world around her spun until darkness clouded over and she was left to her own defenses._

 _For a moment she thought she was falling, then came the rising feeling, the alarm still blaring in her ears. And then everything stopped. The suspended feeling returned, but this time it wasn't pleasant. This time, she felt constricted. Her lungs were burning; she could feel her heartbeat slowing. It felt as if she were drowning._

She woke gasping for air, like she had done many times before. She was disoriented, finding the room she was in held nothing familiar. She looked around frantically, eyes landing on the machine beside her bed, beeping steadily. It was connected to a long tube that ran down the length of her arm to a small clip on her finger. Another needle was buried in her arm, pumping a clear liquid inside with a rhythmic motion. She ripped both from her arm, the machine beeping widely. Throwing the blankets away from her legs, she leapt of the bed, head reeling with the quick movement. As she steadied herself, someone appeared at her side, grabbing onto her shoulders.

"Cleo! Cleo! Please, there's no need to panic. You're safe."

She thrashed about in their grasp, panicking, "Let me go!"

"Cleo! It's Dr. Crawford," another person arrived, "You're fine. You're safe. You escaped the Maze with your friends. Thomas, correct?"

Cleo stopped at the sound of his name. Head whipping around, she meant the familiar face of Dr. Crawford.

"We gave you a couple pain killers and some sleep aid. I understand you are scared, but I need you to work with me, okay. Please take a seat."

"I want to see my friends."

"Please Cl- "

"I want to see my friends!" Her voice boomed through the room, echoing around them. Dr. Crawford jumped some, eyes shifting to the man still firming holding onto the girl. With a quick jerk, Cleo was able to catch the man off guard and free herself, stepping just out of arm's length. Her eyes never left the Doctor's.

Dr. Crawford clenched her jaw and then bowed her head some, "Of course."

Minho was the first to reach her as she was escorted into the room, wrapping her into a bone crushing hug. She chuckled against his chest, hugging him back.

"Don't kill her before the rest of us get a chance to say hello." Newt pulled the two apart, taking Minho's place and hugging her just a tight.

Winston was next and then Frypan, who lifted her off her feet some. She swatted at him, laughing, happy to be reunited with her boys once again. When she was safely placed on the floor once again, the group stepped away to make room for Thomas. He held the same expression as he had in her dream, eyes searching, lips parted slightly. Her heart leapt into her throat as he stepped towards her. She met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her neck, arms coiling around her waist. The sigh of relief that escaped her made him pull her even closer.

With reunions over with, they settled into a comfortable silence, claiming their beds officially. Cleo didn't expect herself to be tired after all the sleep she had gotten, but was surprised when her eyelids drooped. Curling underneath the blanket, she welcomed sleep happily.

Thomas stood at the sink, splashing water in his face for the hundredth time. He glanced back at Cleo, like he had every couple of seconds for the past hour, making sure she was actually there. He was relieved to have her back, seemingly unharmed as well, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her. Her features were soft, lips pouted out some like a child. Her eyes flittered behind her closed eyelids, dreaming adamantly. His mind wandered to Teresa, hoping she was safe as well. He had meant to ask Cleo if she knew anything but never got around to it. He decided to do it first thing in the morning, shuffling back to his bunk to get some sleep.

Just as his head hit the pillow, however, an almost inaudible screeching sound caught his ears. He rose up in bed, looking around the room for the culprit.

"Hey," A voice called out in the dark space, "Down here."

His face twisted into confusion and he leaned over the edge of his bed, peering underneath. The boy from the cafeteria; the one that sat by himself, was sticking halfway out of the vent beneath his bed. He waved him on.

"Come on. Follow me."

Thomas's eyebrows rose, "What?"

"Hurry, this way."

Twisting off the bed, he ducking to crawl underneath, curiosity getting the best of him. But before he could make his silent escape, Cleo's voice called out to him.

"What's going on?" She asked, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes.

He moved from his bed and crouch beside her, reaching up to brush hair from her face, "Nothing. Nothing. Just go back to sleep, okay?"

"Thomas-" Her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Everything's fine, Cleo. Just go back to sleep."

She didn't do much arguing wise, letting him lay her back down and pull the blanket back up over her shoulders. She snuggled into the pillow, already asleep once again. He ran his hand through her hair momentarily before a hiss interrupted and he returned to the vent.

When he returned, she was sitting on top of the table beside his bed, legs swinging off the side. Her eyebrows rose expectantly as he slid out from under the bed. He was up on his feet immediately, staring at her with a coy expression.

"You can't just relax, can you?" She whispered. The others were still sleeping around them, though she doubted her voice would wake anyone up if Minho's snoring hadn't so far. Still, she stayed quiet.

Thomas moved in front of her, his voice low as well, "You can't tell me that you believe these people are good."

"I believe that we can actually get a good night's sleep and a hot meal. I believe that we deserve an actual bed and time to recuperate," She sighed, "I know it's all a little strange. Trust me, we're all a little skeptical. But it's okay to relax. You don't have to be a hero all the time."

Thomas's shoulders slumped at her statement. Yes, he did. He had been a part of their suffering. A part of Wicked. He couldn't let that happen again. He wouldn't.

"Cleo, something is wrong here."

Cleo wanted to roll her eyes, but she was too tired for a fight. So, instead, she crossed her arms and gave him small nod, "Go ahead, humor me."

Thomas swallowed, diving into a quick summary of his adventure through the vents, the beds, the bodies under blankets. To all of which, Cleo listened intently. By the end of his little speech he wasn't sure if she believed him or thought he was crazy. He finished, sucked in a breath of air, and waited for her to try and convince him that he was just overthinking things.

"I believe you." She spoke softly. Her face was hard to read, no emotions to tell him how she had taken the information, but the words resonated. She believed him. And that's all he needed.

A feeling came to him then, one that he had felt many times since meeting the new girl. It had become more frequent since they're arrival to the safe place- or second prison. It started in his stomach, rose to his chest, and made his cheeks hot. It came when she said his name, or looked at him with those big, blue, curious eyes.

"Thomas?"

His eyebrows raised, breaking from his thoughts to look at her.

"Can I tell you something without you thinking I'm completely insane?"

His scoffed, moving to lean against the table beside her, "With my track record, nothing is really insane."

"I saw you in a dream." Her words rushed out before he could finish his own sentence, like she was trying to prove him wrong.

He quirked an eyebrow. That was definitely not what he expected her to say. Then dread settled in. _I saw you._ The words repeated in his head. First hers. Then Alby's. And then Ben's. Daunting. Threatening.

"It started with my mother. Or- I guess, what I assume is my mother. I can only hear her voice," She talked slowly now, hoping not to lose him, "She tells me that what I'm doing is dangerous; that I have to be careful. And then, she disappears and," She looked at him, staring into his eyes, "and then there's you."

"What happens- do I say anything? What happens?"

Cleo shook her head, looking down at her hands, "No. Nothing."

She was lying. He can tell. He reached out, tentatively, lacing his fingers with hers to assure her, he won't judge her, but when she looks at him his heart sinks. Tears line her bottom eye lid.

"When I got stun- when I went through the Changing," He decides to confess himself, maybe if he admits to seeing her, she'll finish her own, "I saw you too. You were there; you were telling me that we couldn't let them die. You said I had to stop them."

Her eyes widened, blinking away the tears that had once threatened to roll down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, regaining her confidence when a buzzer went off. They jumped apart, and looked around for the source of the noise. The others sleeping jerked away, groaning at stiff muscles.

Their conversation would have to wait.


	3. I'm Going To Get Us All Out Of Here

***Just a quick heads up* Updates are going to be a little all over the place due to my school and work schedules this semester. There might be a couple chapters back to back or it might be a few days between, either way, I'm not going anywhere just bear with me if updates become slow! As always enjoy! And thanks for reading!**

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Thomas had told the rest of them what he had seen before half of them could get out of bed. They were more skeptical than Cleo was and it was a bit disheartening. He dropped it for the time being, but wasn't going to let the conversation become forgotten.

At breakfast, they ate quietly, sitting with the two boys from the day before. Cleo was silent mostly, enjoying new faces and new stories. Stories she hadn't experienced herself. When they were finished, they were escorted to a rec room of sorts. There were tables and couches, books to read, old movies, and anything else they could find that entertain teens.

By lunch, Cleo was starting to enjoy herself.

"Alice. Barry. Walt. Edgar. Samantha." Jansen read off the new list of names, standing in the middle of the cafeteria like he had the day before.

She picked at her food absentmindedly. Her appetite had dwindled since yesterday but the food was amazing. She was more or less forcing herself to eat it because of the mouthwatering sensation than she was actually hungry.

"I wanna know what's through that door." Thomas spoke beside her. When she looked at him, he was staring at the large gray doors on the wall furthest from them, she nudged his side softly.

Jansen called out another name. A boy stood up, high-fiving his friends, and joining the others on the wall.

"It could have been anything under there." Newt tried to reason with him. But concern was still the underlying tone in his voice.

Another name. Another boy.

"I know exactly what I saw. They were bodies." Thomas defended.

A girl this time. She hugged her friends, standing and moving to the others.

"Aris said they bring in a new batch every night."

"Who the hell is Aris?" Cleo straightened; Thomas hadn't mentioned the name last night.

He pointed to the boy sitting by himself in the corner. The others blinked and turned back around.

"Well, I'm sold." Minho scoffed.

Another name called. Another boy. Another round of high-fives.

"And last by not least," the room quieted, hopeful teens awaiting their name, "Cleo."

Her heart stopped. Eyes widening as her head shot up, staring at the man in the middle of the room. He stared at her with his shit-eating grin and her blood ran cold. _He looks like a damn rat._

Around her the boys were murmuring with one another, disbelief clearly the universal tone. She swallowed and rose from her seat, only for Thomas to pull her back down.

"Cleo." Jansen repeated her name and the room turned to put a face to the name.

Thomas kept a firm grip on her wrist, leaning in, "You're not going anywhere."

"I don't have a choice," She breathed, prying herself out of his grasp, "I'll be fine."

When she straightened up, Thomas stood. She rolled her eyes.

"Now is not the time to be dumb, okay? If what you are telling us is true, figure something out. But right now, you're making a scene. And that's not going to help us at all."

He kissed her then. Finding nothing else he could do to assure her that he wasn't going to let her get hurt, he kissed her. In front of a room _full_ of ogling teens, _he kissed her_. And she kissed him back. And for a moment, all his worries faded away. All the stress and bad thoughts disappeared and it was just him and her. It felt safe. It felt right. Comfortable. It felt like home.

Jansen's uncomfortable cough pulled them apart.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'll get you out of this. I'm gonna get all of us out of this." He promised.

She nodded, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, "I know."

Stepping away from him, she fell in line on the wall, ignoring the grinning teens that stared at her. Her eyes flickered to Jansen. His grin had gone, but his eyes still held an uneasiness. Looking at her friends one last time, she walked out of the room with the other chosen ones.

It was just what she had expected it to bed. Fluorescent lightings leading them down a long, white hallway, filled with beeping machines and people in white lab coats. Most of the doors were closed, the only ones open being offices. There wasn't anything on the walls and all the stares were hard and unwelcoming. Within minutes, all of the teens became antsy. Cleo kept her mouth shut, following Rat Man down the hall and towards a bunker of sorts.

For here, they were individually taken through a door. There was no explanation, no words of encouragement. Just their name called out into the thin hallway and then a quick "right this way", then the door closed behind them and they were left to wait for the next one.

"What kind of farm do you think it is?" The boy, David, spoke from in front of Cleo. He turned to lean against the wall, hands stuffing into his pockets.

She shook her head, glancing at him quickly before turning her attention back to the door, "No idea."

"Slaves." Came the girl in front of David. She was thin and tall, towering over Cleo. Even David seemed pretty stocky compared to her. They both looked at her, confused.

"I bet you anything it's like a concentration camp. I read about them once. Terrible place. They're going to torture us and make us slaves and then kill us."

David and Cleo looked at one another, straightening when the door opened once again.

"Sally?" The girl pushed off the wall, giving them a pointed look and followed the lab coat inside.

She would have hated the room if there was anything to hate. Everything was white, save for the bedframe which was a deep brown color. It smelled sterile like the medical ward, nothing about it inviting. She was alone for hours, slowly losing her mind in the silent room before the door opened. Dr. Crawford stepped inside, followed by a large serious looking gentleman. He didn't seem like one to talk much, head held high, shoulders squared. One hand rested on the gun at his side, the other hung limply.

"I have to take some blood," Dr. Crawford smiled, and Cleo threw the genuine assumption out the window.

"For what?" She countered, unmoving.

Dr. Crawford, slipped on a pair of gloves, opening the small container in her hands, "A few tests. Nothing extreme. Once we're done, you'll be moved on to the farm."

Cleo scoffed and raised an eyebrow, "Harvest season?"

The question made the doctor pause, eyes flickering from the girl to the guard. She continued as she was, pushing up her sleeves, "Please, make this easy on me, Cleo. I promise I'm not going to do anything bad to you."

"Maybe not directly." Cleo retorted.

"I don't want to have to do this the hard way." The guard lifted his chin even higher. Cleo weighed her options. Defeated, she let Dr. Crawford moved towards the bed. She lifted her arm, turning away this time. The process didn't take anywhere near as long as she had expected it to and just as quickly as she had arrived, Dr. Crawford left.

She was alone with her thoughts, long enough to decide that waiting for Thomas and the others wasn't going to work. Filling her head with fearful ideas and the worst possible scenarios, she decided it was time to get out. She had kept an eye on the hall, coming to her window in intervals. Things outside stayed quiet; no one came, no one went. She would have to act fast if she was going to get out. Next step of the plan was to figure out a way to break the window.

The bed was automatically ruled out. The frame was all one piece, and way too heavy for her to do anything with. She was left to make do with the small end table. Much like the bed it was all one piece, and with nothing to set on it and no drawers to put anything in, completely useless in her opinion. Breaking it seemed to be the next logical thing. Lifted it over her head, she tossed it across the room, cringing at the loud thud that reverberated through her room. To her relief, the table had scattered, breaking into jagged pieces. She grabbed one of the legs, weighing it in her hands momentarily.

The doors were simple; she had studied them earlier, while waiting for someone to come around. A handle of the outside, a simple key and lock system. She took her makeshift weapon and pounded at the glass window. It vibrated with each blow before a crack spidered its way across the bottom half. She mustered up as much strength as she could and swung the leg on last time, shattering the glass. It rained down on her feet and into the hallway.

Not choosing to waste time, she stuck her arm and tool outside the window and awkwardly swung at the handle. It took more effort than she would have liked to knock the handle away, but eventually it tumbled to the ground. Another loud crash, this time echoing down the hall.

It was only a matter of time now. Retracting her arm, she stepped away from the wall. Brute force would be needed now. She was still recovering from her days in the Maze, but a couple good night's rest and hot meals had strengthened her a bit. Turning so her shoulder was out in front of her, she hope for the best and took off towards the door. Her body slammed against it hard, air knocking from her lungs. She grunted as the door shook underneath her, but didn't budge. Stepping away, she shook of the pain in her left side and repeated it again. This time the door flew open, tossing her into the hallway. She yelped, sliding to a stop.

"Hey!" A voice bellowed from down the hall.

Cleo whipped around, eyes landing on the guard advancing. He didn't have a weapon, but was holding a small device to him mouth, speaking quickly into the speaker. She leapt over the crushed glass, taking off in the other direction.

Alarms rang out overhead, quickening her pace. She had no idea where she was, or where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stop. The hallways seemed to be never ending, all exactly the same. She came around a corner, stumbling to a stop. Jansen stood at the end, eyes hard. _At least he's not smiling anymore._

"You always were the rebellious one," He spoke, head lower.

He took a step towards her and she backed away.

"One of Eva's favorites. You were smart, logical. Quick thinking. She hated the idea of you being one of the subjects."

Her eyebrows furrowed together. He wasn't making sense. He continued towards her, pushing her back the way she had come. And then, there was the shit-eating grin.

"You didn't think you really escaped, did you?"

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Tears stung her eyes and she shook her head. _Wicked is good._

A sharp pain in her neck caused her to panic. Flight or fight instincts kicked in and she spun around to attacked whoever it was that had come up behind her. The turn made her head fuzzy, light and sounds coming in and out. She stumbled forward, the man catching her when her legs gave out.

"Don't fight them, Cleo."

The voice echoed through her head as the world around her went black.


	4. We Never Escaped

Yelling.

Someone was yelling.

Many someones were yelling.

She tried opening her eyes, still loopy from the sedative. She could hear them, clear as day now. Newt. Minho. Thomas. They were here. They had come for her.

 _Wicked is good._

"Cleo!" Minho was shouting at her, his voice loud in her ears. He was shaking her, hands grabbing onto her shoulders tightly. Her brain rattled around in her head for a moment. Sound reverberated around her until it fell heavy on her ears. He was real. And so were the commotions around them.

 _Open your eyes. Open your damn eyes!_

"Is she okay?" Another voice. Frypan. He was real too.

 _Wake up!_

Her eyes opened widely, a gasp escaping her lips. The rest of the world fell in, an alarm going off, the sound of others shouting. Glass breaking. Minho was standing over her, face inches from her own. He pulled away when he realized she had finally come to.

"Time to go, sleepyhead." He spoke, pushing her into the sitting position, "Can you walk?"

Disoriented still, she tried to focus on his face. Blinking a few times, she resisted the urge to reach out and grab at his cheeks. Alive. He was real and he was alive. A door breaking down somewhere just out of eye sight told her she didn't have a second to orient herself.

"I'm gonna have to." She groaned, lifting off the bed. Minho caught her as her knees buckled, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright.

Leading her out the door to the right of the bed, they were joined by the others. Teresa came to her side immediately, taking Minho's place so he could move ahead. Her hooded eyes found Thomas in the flurry. He stared back at her. With a slight nod of his head, he took off after Minho.

* * *

They had reached the exit, stumbling into the door due to momentum. Cleo pried away from Teresa to lean against the wall, giving her friend a moments rest as Thomas revealed a thin key card and worked to get the door open. Her head had cleared some, but the blaring alarm and bright lights above didn't help in soothing her headache. Neither did the persistent cries from her friends. She had remembered the hallway from their arrival. The door they were crowded around, leading into the large workshop area. She knew they were running out of time.

"Thomas." Cleo breathed, eyes drifting down the hallway.

Thomas and the others turned to see Jansen making his way towards them. Four or five men marched side by side behind him, guns raised.

"Open this door, Jansen!" Thomas called out.

The asshole didn't even slow down, "You really don't want me to."

Thomas threw the card to the ground, twisting the strap across his shoulder around to present his own large, black gun. He pointed it at Jansen, taking threatening steps forward.

"Open the damn door!" He called out once more.

Minho picked up the key card, mimicking Thomas's earlier actions and tried to get the door open. The light continued to blink red up at them.

"Listen to me," Cleo's eyes stayed glued to the man in the turtleneck, watching his every move, "I'm trying to save your life. The Maze is one thing, but you kids wouldn't last one day out in the Scorch. If the elements don't kill you, the Cranks will."

The group urged Minho to go faster, expressing their disdain loudly each time the red light blinked.

"Thomas you have to believe me. I only want what's best for you."

"Yeah, let me guess. Wicked is good?" Thomas sneered.

"You're not getting through that door, Thomas."

And then, by some miracle, the light flashed green and the door hissed. It began to rise steadily. The teens slipped underneath, turning to urge their left behind friend. Realizing the door had been unlocked, Thomas fired the gun, emptying the bullets as he stumbled backwards. Throwing it in a last attempted diversion, he took off running, the door already beginning to close again. Cleo watched as his face disappeared behind the metal and then his upper body and then his knees.

"Thomas!" She screamed out. Vision darkening for a moment. The scream had felt distant, barely registering in her ears though she felt it burn her throat.

Just before the door could close, Thomas came sliding out, twisting to jump up onto his feet. The others helped him up, staring at Jansen through the window. Thinking fast, the new kid, Aris lunged forward and smashed the keycard machine. Thomas stared Jansen down through the window, before raising his middle finger. The gesture would have been funny at some other time, but now wasn't it. With an aspirated sigh, Minho pulled Thomas after the others. They ran back through the warehouse into the open expansion. No one seemed to think anything of it, however, barely lifting their heads at the escaping teens.

Coming to a stop in front of the large doors, Cleo was shocked to see how simple it was for Thomas to pull a single lever.

For everything Jansen had told them about the Cranks and the Scorch, security seemed to need some work. They had made it up and over the ridge before people flooded outside with flashlights and atvs. The group sank into the sand, which was still hot from the day before. Their breathing was ragged, but quiet, watching with baited breath as their pursuers scanned the surrounding areas.

"Stay low, stay low." Thomas whispered, ducking his own head down further over the ridge.

"We gotta go!" Cleo hissed. Teresa helped her off her stomach, guiding her down the embankment and away from the bunker. They ran until their legs burned and then slowed to a jog. It was Teresa that caught sight of the dilapidated building, overturned and partially buried in sand. She pulled Cleo along with her, earning worried exclamations from Thomas and the other boys before they ducked inside.

The wind couldn't reach them in here, and Cleo was relieved that they could stop and take a moment to rest. The moment ended the second Thomas slid down beside her, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her as well as the others further on.

"No, Thomas, stop!" Teresa stayed where she stood, defiantly disobeying Thomas. He spun around, hand still wrapped tightly around Cleo's arm.

"Tell me what's going on?"

Cleo knew. Thomas had been right all along. They should have escaped a long time ago. She could sense the tension from the boy beside her, and moved to squeeze his forearm with her free hand. He must have forgotten he was holding her, because his hand dropped immediately, a jolt of surprise running through him as he looked at her and then to the girl in front of them.

"It's Wicked," He stated, "It's Wicked. They lied to us. We never escaped. Me and Aris, we found bodies. Too many to count."

Teresa shook her head in disbelief, "What do you mean? Dead bodies?"

"No, but they weren't alive either. They had them strung up. With tubes coming out of them. They were being drained," Cleo shivered, blinking up at Thomas as he explained, "There's something inside of us that Wicked wants. Something in our blood. So we have to get as far away from them as possible."

"So, what's the plan?" Newt asked. His tone still held some speculation, but he trusted Thomas all the same.

Thomas shifted his weight around, swallowing nervously.

"You do have a plan, right?"

"Yeah, I don't know." Thomas shook his head.

"Well, we followed you out here, Thomas and now you're saying that you have no idea where we're going," Newt blinked repeatedly, "Or what we're doing."

Cleo wanted to say something. Assure everyone that they would figure something out like they always did, but the kid in the back spoke up before her.

"Wait. Jansen said something about people hiding in the mountains. Some kind of resistance or army."

"The Right Arm." Her words were just as startling to her as they were to Thomas. How did she know that?

"The Right Arm," But as confused as he was, Thomas nodded, agreeing with her, "If they're really against Wicked, maybe they can help us."

Newt scoffed, "People. In the mountains. Mountain people. That's your plan?"

"It's the only chance we have."

"Hey, guys. Check this out." Winston had broken up the discussion, which Cleo was grateful for. Her head wasn't clear enough to deal with an argument. Lagging behind the others, she tried to calm the pounding in her brain.

 _You were one of Eva's favorites._

She couldn't get Rat Man out of her head. His voice, his face. She wanted him gone. Wanted everything that had happened to them since they left the Maze gone. She wanted to forget again. Maybe her head would hurt a little less if all she could remember was her name.

Thomas appeared then, standing in front of her, eyes searching. She blinked, staring back at him. His eyebrows were scrunched together, forehead creased with wrinkles. He had reached out to her, hands resting on her elbows lightly.

"You okay? How are you feeling?"

One hand reached up to rake away the hair that had fallen in her face. It was gentle, soothing, and she suddenly felt exhausted. But she gave him a smile and shook her head.

"I'm fine. Things are still a little fuzzy, but I'll be alright."

He stared at her for a moment longer, obviously not believing her. It wasn't worth the fight now. At least, not until she was feeling better. So, returning the small smile, he guided her after the others.

* * *

It was hard to pinpoint where exactly they were, but there were dry clothes and supplies that they could use. Cleo's head had cleared substantially, though moving too fast gave her a dizzy spell. Her and Teresa had sorted through a pile of clothing while the boys ransacked everything else. She was able to find a pair of pants that fit pretty well, though the legs were a little short. Her sweater was too big and hung off one shoulder, but she kept her white tank top on and found a decent jacket to wear over. Shoes were next and if she were lucky a pair of socks.

Socks were harder to find and she had to settled on a holey pair, but the boots she found hidden behind a stack of boxes and crates were almost too good to be true. They fit snuggly around her feet, warming her toes. The warmth reminded her of the Glade and her heart ached. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away the feeling.

Her next mission was to find a backpack. As she searched, she collected supplies. A flashlight here, a small bundle of rope there. Anything that could be of help to them later. She had just found a backpack decent enough to hold up for a little while when the lights above them flickered on. The group gathered together, an unsettling feeling coming over all of them.

Then came the commotion from down the hall. Newt and Cleo stood a few feet in front of the others, both of their minds travelling to Thomas and Minho, whom had left them earlier to explore further in the building.

"What the hell was that?" Cleo breathed.

"I don't know."

When Thomas came sprinting around the corner, they knew things were about to become terribly inconvenient.

* * *

Newt's hand clasped her wrist in a scathingly tight grip, whipping her around in a hurry. Minho had come racing around the corner just on Thomas's heels and moments later a group of sickly looking humans followed suit. Cleo didn't have to look long to understand that they were what Rat Man had warned them about.

Cranks.

The group was sent deeper into the building, climbing upstairs and jumping over fallen objects. Thomas and Minho had taken the lead, though it did little in helping them. No one knew where they were going and it seemed like everything had been turned around since they entered.

"Where the hell are we gonna go?" Someone screamed out.

At this point, it was as if they were going in circles, looping around the same hallway over and over again.

Thomas just waved them on, arms and legs flailing as he picked up speed, "We gotta find a way out of here!"

The group was brought to an immediate halt when one of the Cranks appeared in front of them. Cleo rammed into Frypan's back, using his shirt to steady herself as Aris came rushing past her. Dropping onto his knees, he swung a piece of wood at the Crank's knees incapacitating it. The impact sent the Crank sailing into the group separating them. Having no time to regroup, Thomas and Teresa were left to find their own way up as the others took off.

Head and heart pounding, Cleo didn't even argue when she was thrusted into the middle of the group, dragged up the stairs as Cranks practically grabbed at their heels. They were quickly rejoined by Thomas and Teresa, though the direction of where they should go was still a complete mystery. Cleo could feel herself slowing, falling to the back of the group with Newt and Thomas.

 _Don't stop. Just keep going._

She didn't hear the glass shatter on her right and barely caught a glimpse of the gruesome looking man before he tackled Newt, sending them both to the ground in a hard thud. While Newt wrestled with the Crank on top of him, Cleo scrambled to her feet. Thomas was beside her immediately, pushing her away from the danger. Coming to Newt's aid, he placed his foot against the guys abdomen and have a hard shove. The Crank, completely off balance, rocked from Newt and rolled off the side of the balcony, crashing through the glass barrier and down the ground below.

Thomas helped Newt up, both already moving again.

"Newt, you good?"

Newt gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, eyes wide at the herd of Cranks coming up from behind them, "Thanks, Tommy!"

The group twisted back around, Thomas latching onto Cleo's hand as he sped past her, the screams growing louder behind them. Minho herded them all the down a hallway and the little hope that Cleo had plummeted. Small and long, the hallway held no hope for a way out.

"Guys, where are we going?" Winston shouted from the back, almost lost over the Cranks behind. Thomas tried the first door on their right, only for it to barely budge. Without hesitation, he moved forward. He tried the next door, with the same outcome. Through the waving flash lights and thin red light, Cleo could just make out the end of the hallway.

"It's a dead end!" Minho announced. Like the others before, three doors sat on the right side of the wall. Thomas and Minho both rammed into them, using their bodies to try and break them down. Cleo watched them tediously.

 _We're going to die._

"This one!" Thomas announced, revealing the last door was giving a little. Frypan pushed his way to the front, shouldering the door with force only fueled by adrenaline.

"I'll hold them back!" Winston shouted. Cleo's eyes widened at the gun he pulled from the back hem of his pants, jumping as the first gun shot rang out.

"Frypan, hurry!" She turned to the boy still beating against the door.

The others were shouting, both at Frypan and just in general. And then, by the grace of God, the door swung open, Frypan stumbling out into the larger room. Thomas shuttled everyone out, grabbing at Winston's backpack as he continued to fire his gun. Twisting around, he and Minho held the door just wide enough for their friends to escape. Just as Winston crossed the threshold, he was ripped to the ground. Feet in the hands of Cranks, he grabbed at the doorframe.

"Help me! Help! Please!"

The others struggled to grab ahold of their friend, playing tug-of-war with his body against the Cranks. They watched as jagged fingernails clawed at his abdomen, emitting screams before they finally had the upper hand and Winston was dragged to safety. Newt and Frypan lifted him to his feet as Teresa pulled Cleo down the hallway.

"Go! Go!" Thomas urged. He and Minho were still barricading the door with their bodies. As more Cranks pushed back, the door opened wider.

Cleo didn't look back this time. She had to focus on running, keeping her feet moving as Teresa dragged her along. Newt, Frypan, and Winston were behind them but she couldn't hear anything that gave her the reassurance that Minho and Thomas were there as well.

 _Just keep going._

* * *

The hallway led them outside, through the terrain was covered in the more destroyed side of the building. Climbing over rubble, the group still had no idea where they were going.

Cleo was the one to find the small alcove for them to hid under, ushering the others in first, she was glad to see Winston didn't look as bad as she had originally thought. Minho and Thomas coming up last released a breath she didn't know she had been holding and some of the weight lifted from her shoulders. Ducking inside just before they did, she huddled between Teresa and Newt.

She wasn't sure how long they had been squeezed underneath together or when they had decided that it was safe enough to sleep but she didn't argue. Curling on her side beside Teresa, she shut her eyes and tried to block out the sounds of the Cranks off in the distance.

* * *

 **So sorry it's been a minute since I've updated but here it is! I'm not sure how much I like this chapter, it was actually kind of hard to write with all the action that was happening. I may or may not go back and edit it, but I'll let you know if I do! Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long for me to get up! Thanks (as always) for reviewing, favoriting, following, reading, all of it! You guys are the greatest! Xx**


	5. Don't Let Me Turn

They woke to Thomas yelling. Cleo's body tensed, the ache in her bones signifying that she wasn't going to be able to run for much longer. Luckily, fear subsided into relief when the apparent danger was nothing but a bird picking at what little food they had been able to scavenge from the bunker before escaping.

"Are they gone?" Newt croaked, twisting so he was looking up at Thomas.

The other boy craned his neck over the alcove, turning about for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, I think we're safe for now."

"Okay, we should get moving." Minho, Teresa, and Cleo sat up immediately, stretching out sore muscles and yawning away the sleep. Frypan, Newt, Aris, and Winston took a little more coaxing.

Cleo had just pushed to her feet when Winston released a pained groan. Frypan, who stood beside him, turned around immediately, reaching out a hand to help his friend up.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

Winston nodded, but it was as clear as day. His pale skin and sweat covered forward gave him away. Cleo watched him limp to his bag, body still curled in on itself partially. Stepping away from the others, she moved to stand behind him.

"Just take it easy, okay?" She rested a hand on his shoulder in reassurance and he swallowed. Looking into his eyes now, she could feel the pain radiating off him. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in years. Shifting her lighter back further on her shoulders, she reached for his bag.

"I'll carry it for a bit, just take it slow. I'm not sure how far we've gotta go," She blinked, "But you're going to make it there, understand?"

Winston swallowed once more and, slowly, nodded his head, "I'm okay, Cleo. Honestly."

"Cleo! Winston! We gotta go!" Thomas's voice ended the conversation before Cleo had the chance to argue with the boy, but maybe it was for the best. Guiding Winston in front of her, they began trekking on.

Thomas led them back up over the rubble, coming to a brief stop to overlook the city. The entire place was decimated. Building laid on their sides, buried underneath sad, vehicles still sitting where their owners had left them years ago.

 _World in Catastrophe_

Still, they pushed on. Cleo stayed close to Winston, shooting worried glances at him each time he let out a jagged, shallow, groan. Sometime in the middle of their trek into the middle of the city, Thomas had fallen back, his own worry for his friend evident in his expression. Cleo silently filed him in; a single disheartened glance.

From up ahead, Frypan mumbled something back to Newt, eyeline directed at the remaining buildings towering above them, holding nothing but broken frames and collecting dust and sand. That's when Thomas stopped her.

"Hang on, stop." The others did as he said, turning to look at him expectantly.

"Do you hear that?" His voice was lower, head tilted upward some.

Cleo focused on the world around her, trying to find whatever it was he was listening for. A low humming sound. Growing louder as it came closer.

"Everyone, hide! Hide! Hide!" Thomas shuttled them all over to the debris on their left.

Moments later, the humming sound turned into a large carrier, darkening the sky above them as it past overhead. Two smaller carriers followed behind. They were no doubt looking for the escaped teens.

"They're never gonna stop looking for us, are they?" Minho breathed, sticking his neck out a bit to check if the coast was clear.

When the humming return to a dull, distant vibration, the teens crawled out from under the debris and continued on.

Winston was doing pretty well, Cleo had to admit, keeping up with the group and never stopping for more than a few seconds to take a drink. All the same, she never left his side, helping him up the steep incline. By the top of the sand dune, they were lagging behind substantially. She tried to convince herself that it was only due to how steep the trek had been and that Winston would be fine with a little rest and some more water, but she knew not to get her hopes up.

Reaching the crest of the hill with the others, they stared out at the distance before them. More ruins. More sand. More sun.

"Those mountains, that's gotta be it." Thomas announced. His voice held some hopefulness but it didn't help much.

"That's a long way off." Newt pointed out.

"Then we better get moving."

Cleo couldn't stop Winston as he dropped to the ground. She was the first to lunge after him, sinking to her knees at his shoulder as the others gathered around.

"He's hurt pretty bad." She announced, placing a hand to his forehead. His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, skin burning beneath her palm.

"What do we do?" Teresa asked from beside her. Her own hands were cradling Winston's face, comforting him.

Thomas stood, looking around them. He looked to the mountains. Then down at Cleo. She was staring at him and just like the others, waiting for him to decide.

Finally, his head jutted to the side, "We'll build a stretcher. Teresa, Cleo stay with him. Guys, let's go."

The boys slowly drifted away from the girls, leaving them to tend to Winston. They were able to get him sitting up, Cleo behind him for added supported.

"Hang in there, Winston. You're doing just fine."

Cleo was proud of the makeshift gurney they had constructed. Under the circumstances and with limited resources, it was sturdy enough to get Winston pretty far if they took turns. When the weather seemed to not agree with them anymore, things became difficult. Shielding skin from the sand whipping past in the wind, shelter was the next best option. The mountains would have to wait a little longer.

They found a small fallen structure, big enough to shield them all from the wind, and nestled inside. Winston was removed from the stretcher, and doted over by Cleo who tried to monitor him as best she could. Every now and again, she made him drink water and when his began to run out, she didn't hesitate to give him her's.

"Cleo, stop. You'll need it." He would rasp, pushing the drink away.

Shaking her head, she swat away his hand and reach the bottle back out to his lips. It wasn't helping. She knew this. But it was all she could do for him. And she would drown him in water.

It was a little over an hour before the winds died down and it was safe enough to go back out. Thomas gave everyone ten more minutes to rest, moving up the ridge behind them. After a few silent moments, Teresa rose and followed him, leaving the others to watch her curiously.

The conversation was only just beginning when Newt shouted from where he stood, "How's it looking?"

Both turned and gave his a reassuring smile.

"It's a little further!" Thomas shouted back.

Newt turned slowly, eyes shifting between the others, "That's not very convincing."

Cleo grinned, glad that things, and them, were getting back to normal somewhat. She, herself, was feeling way better than the day before, though she could use a hot meal, and a shower, and her legs were killing her. But they were alive. And for that, she was thankful.

The moment ended when a gunshot ripped through the air. She shot to her feet, stumbling away from the direction of the noise, completely caught off guard by Frypan beside her.

"Guys, get down here!" Newt was screaming and she was being hauled off to the side, eyes wide as she tried to search for the direction of the gunshot. Thomas and Teresa arrived within seconds, kicking up sand as they slid to a stop.

"What's going on?" "What happened?"

"I don't know," Frypan raised his hands, "He just woke up and grabbed the gun and then he tried to- "

Cleo's body shifted completely towards Winston. He was on his hands and knees now, hovering over the backpack. One arm reached out to his friends.

"Give it back, please."

The words sank into Cleo's chest. Her eyes filled with tears, hands shaking at her sides. _No. No. No. No._

Thomas was the one to approach him, only to stumble back seconds later as Winston vomited up a thick black liquid. It pooled below him, clumping up in the sand. He rocked backwards, laying down once again. He looked so much worse than he had just minutes ago. He was dying.

"It's growing," Lifting up the hem of his shirt, "Inside me."

Black veins laced across his abdomen, the lacerations were deep and oozing with a mixture of blood and the same vile, black liquid that he just thrown up.

"I'm not gonna make it," He breathed, "Please. Please, don't let me turn into one of those things."

They didn't have a choice. There was nothing else they could do for it besides give him what he wanted. Newt was the first to step up, taking the gun from Frypan.

The others tried to stop him, watching with baited breath as he stood over Winston. Kneeling down, he placed the gun in his hand.

"Thank you," Winston smiled, "Now, get outta here."

Newt softly said goodbye and stood up. Grabbing his things, he pushed past the others and began his trek up the hill Teresa and Thomas had once been standing on top of. Frypan and Minho were next, crouching down on either side of Winston.

"It's okay." He whispered, giving them a reassuring nod. They stood solemnly and followed Newt. Teresa and Aris left silently after them.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Cleo stepped around Thomas, taking her turn to say goodbye to Winston. Her body sank into the sand, heavy with the weight of her friends impending death.

He reached out and took her hand giving it a feeble squeeze and smiled, "Good luck, Cleo."

She smiled down at him, "Goodbye, Winston."

Again, he squeezed her hand, this time with more sincerity, "Survive, okay? Somehow, just survive."

Biting down on her lip to stop the sob rising in her throat, she leaned down and placed a small kiss to his forehead. Without another word, she climbed to her feet, grabbed her things and stepped back out into the sun. Thomas followed behind her after his own goodbye, she could hear him sniffling as they trekked after the others. They had just reached the top of the hill when the next gunshot rang out.

It stopped them all in their treks, made their hearts leap into their throats. Cleo dropped her head, tears following onto her t-shirt.

The rest of the journey had been silent, save for Thomas telling everyone to setup camp within the debris of an overturned ship. They were able to construct a small fire with scrap wood and sat around eating what little food they had left.

"I thought we were supposed to be immune." Frypan mumbled, lifting heads.

Cleo chucked a small piece of wood she had been fiddling with into the fire, face showing no real emotion, "Not all of us, I guess."

"If Winston can get infected," Newt spoke next, "we should assume so can the rest of us."

Another beat of silence spread through them. Cleo looked from the flickering flames to the others around her. Each face was worn and exhausted, a mixture of sadness, fear, and hopelessness. Not completely, but it was still there. This world wasn't like the Glade. Nothing like what the expected. They weren't prepared or ready for anything that had happened or anything that was going to happened.

"I never thought I'd say it," Frypan spoke again, a single tear running down his cheek catching in the light of the fire, "I miss the Glade."

 **This one is a little shorter than the others. But I'm trying to space the story out as much as I can. I going to try to get it to eleven chapters like the last one, so bear with me. I will be writing my own scenes throughout so hopefully that will make the updates longer. Thank you for your kind reviews. .2016, thank you for sticking with this story for so long, I always get so happy when I see you've reviewed! Babyks2, thank you for taking the time to review, it means so much! I'm glad to see someone has the same feelings as I do. I love Newt and Minho but I can never get into stories about them.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy! Xx**


	6. I See You've Met Our Guard Dogs

When morning came, no one seemed particularly eager to continue. Stiff muscles and grumbling stomachs didn't add to their exhaustion. In spite of this, the group collected their things and began their journey through the sand once again.

The mountains had grown bigger, staring back at them through the burning heat. Cleo could feel her shoulders and face baking in the sunlight, lips chapping. She yearned for the shade of the trees back in the glade. The group was less uniformed now, walking at their own paces instead of staying together. Not much had been spoken due to the lack of energy and by the time the sun was high in the sky, everyone was a little grumpy.

Cleo and Minho walked silently side by side, passing back and forth a canteen of water until it ran dry and Minho chucked it into the sandy abyss on their right. They were the only two who had tried to pass the time with talking, though there wasn't much to talk about. A game of I Spy turned into an annoying silence. All they could do was continue walking.

"You two gonna talk about what happened?" Minho spoke hoarsely. His question perplexed her and she her eyebrows furrowed as she squinted in the light to look at him.

"What?"

His head practically rolled with his eyes. Giving her an incisive look, he didn't try to hide the sarcastic smirk.

"The kiss, you dummy."

She hoped her sunburnt cheeks hide the blush, unable to deny that Minho's question was enough to make her hands sweat and her dry throat even more dry.

"Why would yo- there hasn't been- it hasn't really come up." She fumbled, looking anywhere but at the smiling boy beside her.

"Oh c'mon. You like him, he likes you. It was pretty clear when you two were sucking face in the middle of the cafeteria."

Cleo guffawed and shoved his shoulder. He stumbled away from her a bit, chuckling and held up his hands defensively.

"Okay, okay," they fell back into step with one another, "All I am saying is maybe talking about it could distract you both from worrying so much."

Cleo shook her head, sighing, "We don't need distractions right now."

Minho rolled his eyes, "Just go talk to him."

This time, he was the one to shove her. In the direction of their oblivious leader. She tripped over her feet, sending a nasty look over her shoulder at him before looking back towards Thomas. Sucking in a deep breath, she picked up her pace.

His head turned when she appeared beside him, momentarily surprised to see her there. Eyebrows raising, he continued to stare at her. She looked straight ahead, completely aware that he was looking at her and tried to search for a reasonable icebreaker.

"Minho made me come up here."

 _Way to go._

"Minho made you come up here?"

Cleo nodded curtly, "He wants us to talk."

Thomas blinked at her. She still hadn't looked at him and her short responses weren't helping anything.

"Minho made you come up here because he wants us to talk?"

She just nodded this time and Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, "You're going to have to be a little more descriptive than that, Cleo."

With an aspirated sigh, she finally looked at him.

"The kiss. He wants us to talk about the kiss."

Thomas paled almost immediately. He had forgotten about the kiss. Well, not forgotten but things had happened between then and now that had taken precedence. At the time of the kiss, he hadn't really been thinking. Actually, he had. He had been thinking he wanted to kiss her. And now, he was thinking that it had been a terrible idea and he had ruined whatever the relationship was between them.

"He thinks it will distract us from worrying so much," She continued, "I told him it wasn't that important."

She tensed when he looked away. That definitely wasn't what he wanted to hear nor what she meant to say. Kicking herself in the ass mentally, she tried to find a way to fix it.

"I'm sorry that I did it." He spoke before her.

Feeling terrible, she laid a hand on his arm, "That's not what I meant. I meant, that with everything going on; us trying to reach the Mountain, WCKD after us, Winston- " she stopped there, swallowing, "I'm not upset you did it, Thomas. In fact, it's pretty much the opposite."

Her mouth clamped shut then, eyes adverting from him as a smile spread slowly across his own features. Her hand dropped from his arm, fisting at her side as she pushed away the urge to hit herself upside the head.

 _She should have just stuck with short sentences._

When Thomas's shoulder brushed against her own, she stiffened. It came as a surprise more than anything, but turned into reassurance. Body relaxing, she looked up at him. He was still smiling at her, kind and warm. Smiling back at him, she dropped her gaze to the sand. And while it didn't completely distract her from their current predicament, it did ease some of her nerves.

After a bit of silence, Thomas cleared his throat and looked over at her once more. She met his gaze, waiting for him to say whatever it was he had to say.

"Can I look at something?"

She blinked up at him. His tone was a bit unnerving but she nodded all the same. Tentatively, Thomas side stepped behind her and reached for her hair draped over the back of her neck. She shivered as his fingers barely grazed her skin, surprised by the touch and swallowed. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

But he had and his hand retracted immediately, scared he had hurt her in someway. But his anxiety diminished into fear as he eyes found the same red markings lining down her neck as Teresa's.

"What is it?" She inquired, head swiveling to look at him over her shoulder.

Again, he cleared his throat, falling back into step with her and shook his head. Brushing off her question and the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, he stared straight ahead. Occasionally, she would steal quick glances at him, but pestering would get her nowhere.

* * *

They made pretty good ground this time around, hiking until they could barely stand and then dropping to the ground and calling it a day. Curled in on themselves, they tried to get some sleep. Teresa and Cleo stayed huddled together as the night brought along chilly winds and were thankful that the sand retained heat for as long as it did. But while the others slept, Cleo couldn't keep her eyes closed. Laying on her side, she stared at the vast emptiness around them. Thomas was the only thing to look at other than the never ending expansion of sand and she focused on his steady breathing instead of her aching stomach and throat.

 _Don't fight them._

The voice had been so familiar, but in the haze of the sedative they had injected in her neck she still wasn't able to place it. Since they departure from Winston, her head had cleared some. She wasn't anymore lethargic than the others. And though she hated to admit it, the last two nights hadn't been very restful. Images of life before the maze, all of which still led to dead ends and even hazier explanations annoyed her to no end. With everything that had been going on, she was afraid to speak out about them. Teresa had seemed too distant since their departure and Thomas was already carrying enough weight on his shoulders. The others might be more keen to listening but that could lead to even more dead ends. For now, she would be left to deal with her own thoughts- memories? Were they memories now? Her memories from before she was placed in the glade like all the others. Even with the blank faces and hollowly distant voices?

Her fingers reached around to rub over the tender markings on her neck, rigged like a scab. That was all it took. A single, swift motion, and then she was reliving all the terrible things she had done to her friends. A single tear fell from her eye, running over her nose and dropping into the sand just as Thomas sat up, releasing a strangled cough. She jumped at the sudden movement, watching wildly as he shook Newt awake before her eyes fell on the lights flickering just off in the distance.

"Get up. Come on, let's go. Frypan, Aris." Thomas continued to wake the others, staggering to his feet, "I see something."

Cleo pushed her way up beside Newt, grabbing his shoulder to turn him in the direction of the lights.

"You see that?" She breathed, looking frantically back and forth between Newt on her right and Thomas on her left.

Newt's expression seemed to soften, blinking in disbelief, "We made it."

A clap of thunder shook them and they all spun around. Clouds rolled over one another, moving quickly towards them. Lighting coursed through them dangerously, the sound echoing.

"Let's go. We gotta go."

Gathering their things, they took off.

* * *

The lights had turned into the buildings which turned into sanctuary for the teens running to escape the lightning storm on their heels. Or at least, that was what Cleo was telling herself. As long as she continued to push herself forward, they were doing alright.

That was until lightning stuck a little too close for comfort and almost knocked her off her feet. Frypan was the first to the reach the door, yanking it open. They were safe.

"Minho!" Thomas's voice spun them all around. Not everyone had been lucky with the bolt of lightning.

Thomas was still struggling to get off his back, body twisted away from the group. Just feet away from him, Minho laid unmoving. Newt and Aris were the closest, racing back to gather their friends off the ground. Cleo bounced on her heels, screaming at them to hurry. Behind her somewhere, Teresa was calling out her name. Just as the boys reached the door, Teresa grabbed ahold of her hand and pulled her into the dark building.

She shuffled out of the way as they came barreling inside behind her, dropping to her knees as they laid him down.

"Watch his head!" She directed. Her hand wiped across his forehead, smearing dirt and sweat, and felt panic flooding in. They couldn't lose Minho too. Not now. Not ever.

"Minho!" Thomas was slapping at his face. The others crowded around, shining flashlights down on the unconscious boy.

"Come on, man."

When it seemed like nothing was going to happen, a groan emitted from his chapped lips. A collective sigh of relief pushed through the hair and they all smiled down at the now conscious and breathing boy.

"What happened?" His voice croaked.

Cleo chuckled, cupping his face and leaning forward some, "I think you got struck by lightning."

He stared at her in disbelief for a moment before pain scrunched up his features. Another groan was released and she bent to kiss his forehead. Standing so the others could help him up, Cleo moved to stand beside Teresa.

Something was moving in the darkness in front of them. It hadn't seemed to notice them yet, but Cleo wasn't taking any chances.

"What's that smell?" Teresa lifted her flashlight, the click of the switch echoing louder than usual as Cleo tried to stop her. Just as the light illuminated the figure in front of them, it came charging. They both screamed, stumbling back into the boys as more figures lunged from the sides.

"Oh shit!"

"Cranks!"

They huddled together as far away from the outstretched hands as they could, holding onto to one another, when suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway. Lights flooded the room and the cranks became more visible. Dozens of them, scattered around the room, chained to various objects.

"I see you've met our guard dogs."

A girl, not much older than them, came sauntering forward, seemingly unfazed by the Cranks. Thomas, Minho, and Newt took up the front, shielding the others from the newcomer.

"Stay back!" Thomas warned, but the girl only smiled.

"You guys look like shit."

Her hair had been cut closed to her scalp- a good idea, Cleo thought admittedly, her own stuck to the back of her neck with sweat- and her eyes were lined with thick lashes. Her smile sat crooked and confident, like she was holding all the cards. Cleo respected her authoritative attitude but didn't trusted her in the slightest.

"Follow me."

She spun on her heel, walking back the way she had come. The group made no response except the small glances between one another.

"Unless you want to stay here with them."

Cleo was the first to move, shoving Thomas lighting in the back. He glared back at her only briefly before leading them after the mysterious new girl.

* * *

 **I'm hoping to make this this story eleven chapters like the last so look out for scenes being expanded on and some one on one Cleo and Thomas scenes. I also might play around with different POV's so look out for that as well.**

 **Also, does anyone reading this watch Teen Wolf? Did you see last nights episode. Not gonna give away any spoilers but it was a lot of heart eyes and teary eyes!**

 **Let me know what you think! Xx**


	7. Quick Author's Note

Hey Guys! Just a quick little update. I've been super busy with work and school and haven't had time to write much of the next chapter. I'm hoping to have it up by the end of next week, but I can't make any promises. Sorry for the delay! Xx


	8. You've Got Him Curious

**Hey guys! I know it's up later than I said it would be and I don't have any good excuse, it just got away from me. Also, chapters are going to be a little shorter from here on out, just because I want it to be as long as the first book or even longer. All that aside, here is the newest chapter, sorry for being late and thank you for reading!**

* * *

The group followed the stranger cautiously into the next room. It was bigger and brighter than the one they had just previously been in, and the humans staring at them as they moved through didn't seem as ravenous as the Cranks.

Cleo stayed weaseled between Frypan and Newt, eyes scanning over the looming figures that had created a sort of path for them. Dark eyes and menacing grins kept her on edge. Nothing about this place felt safe.

"Come on, keep up. Jorge wants to meet you!" The girl leading them shouted in the front, her head bearing glancing over her shoulders.

"Who's Jorge?" Thomas bounced back, quickening his pace to be right on her heels.

She sent him a playful smirk, "You'll see. No one's come out of the Scorch in a long time. You've just got him curious," Another glance back towards Thomas, her Cheshire grin glistening in the firelight around them, "And me, too."

Thomas fell back in with the others after that, glancing to his side at Teresa, who only blinked in response. Newt nudged Cleo's arm, head swiveling from the men beside him to whisper, "Anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this place?"

Cleo announced her agreement with a snort, side eyeing him before Thomas looked back at them.

"Let's just hear him out. See what he has to say."

Led upstairs, the group enter a more secluded living space. A man stood with his back to them, completely oblivious to their arrival.

"Jorge, they're here."

The man turned then, hands coming to rest on his hips, let out a deep breath.

The next sentence to come out of his mouth was nowhere close to what Cleo had been expecting.

"Do you ever get the feeling the whole world's against you?"

Looking at one another, the entire group seemed stumped by whatever it was he was trying to get at. They pressed in closer together, eyes wearily scanning over the room around them.

"Three questions," Jorge stepped over towards a table, lifting the glass bottle of what Cleo assumed was alcoholic, "Where did you come from? Where are you going? How can I profit?"

No one said anything.

"Don't all answer at once."

Cleo punched Thomas lightly in the lower back, provoking a cough and a side eye glance from Minho just in front of her.

"We're headed for the mountains. Looking for the Right Arm."

Jorge's eyebrows raised, his head shaking lightly, "You're looking for ghosts, you mean," But nevertheless he continued, "Question number two. Where did you come from?"

"That's our business." Cleo announced before anyone else could speak. She didn't believe any of them would throw them under the bus, but she was sick of this guy and his little followers.

Her statement didn't sit well with the older man, and with a swift wave of his hand, the girl that had led them here in the first place grabbed Thomas's arm and forcefully pushed him forward. With the help of two other men, he was pinned down on the table, a small device placed to the back of his neck.

"Get the hell off me, man!" He struggled, fighting against his restraints.

The girl just smirked, finding no difficulty in the situation, "Shut up, you big baby."

The rest of the group took a collective step forward in regards to saving their friend but when an onslaught of large, dangerous looking men, were forced to take a collective step backwards.

The girl straighten after a moment, Thomas freed and pushed back with the others.

"You were right."

Her words hung in the air threatening. Cleo knew what she meant, even if her friends around her seemed completely dense. Stepping closer into Teresa's side, she waited for whatever fate was about to be bestowed on them.

"I'm sorry, hermano," Jorge spoke calmly, though a grin grew steady on his tired features, "Looks like you're tagged. You came from WICKED."

"Which means," The men surrounding them drew in closer, "You're very valuable."

Cleo latched onto Teresa just as the men grabbed at them. There was a pretty good fight though no one was able to break free. Led into another room, their hands were bound. One by one, they were pulled off to the side where their feet were wrapped in chain and then pushed out over a large pit to dangle upside down. Both girls stayed relatively quiet as they were chained and hung up, swinging and bumping into the boys who seemed a little less calm. Soon enough, the blood rushing to their heads and the knowledge that verbal threats and thrashing about weren't going to help, they tired out and fell into a uncomfortable silence.

"Good plan, Thomas." Minho groaned once the last of Jorge's henchmen disappeared out of the room.

"'Just hear what the man has to say'." Cleo mocked. Even though they weren't facing one another, she could feel the annoying eye roll Thomas was giving her and grinned to herself.

"Really working out for us." Minho concluded.

Thomas groaned back in response, something along the lines of "shut up", before survival skill kicked back in. He wiggled around a bit, trying to pick up momentum, arms outstretched towards the ledge.

His failing attempt to rescue them was cut short with the arrival of Jorge. Peering down on them with a shit eating grin that was just as annoying as Rat Face's but not as uncomfortable, he quirked, "Enjoying the view?"

"What the hell do you want?" Thomas grunted.

Jorge's hands were folded behind his back, his chest protruding out in a confident manner, chin lifted even though he had to look down at the teens, "That is the question. My men want to sell you back to WICKED. Life has taught them to think small," He paused, no doubt to add effect, "I'm not like that."

Cleo wanted to make a sneering remark, since they were in fact hanging from the ceiling over a pit deep enough for there to be nothing left of them once, and if, they hit the bottom. But instead, she kept her mouth shut, trying to angle herself just the right way so she could see Jorge above.

"Something tells me that you're not either."

Minho seemed to have the same feelings as his friend and scoffed, "Is the blood rushing to my head or is this shank not making any sense?"

"Both Minho." Cleo grunted, making sure he, and everyone else, knew how fed up she was with the situation.

"Tell me what you know about the Right Arm." Jorge continued, unfazed by the two teens.

"I thought you said they were ghosts."

"I happen to believe in ghosts. Especially when I hear them chattering on the airwaves," This peaked everyone's interest, and Jorge took the opportunity to kneel face to face with Thomas, "You tell me what you know, and maybe we can make a deal."

Thomas shook his head, "We don't know much."

Jorge was standing again in seconds, reaching for the lever on his left, the chains gave a bit and the teens dropped a little too much for their liking.

"Thomas." Cleo groaned, grabbing at her aching head.

The others around her grumbled and cursed under their breath.

"Okay! Okay, all right. They're hiding in the mountains. And they attacked WICKED. They got out a bunch of kids. That's it," Thomas rambled, "That's all we know."

Before Jorge could respond a bald man entered, calling out to him.

"What's going on?" He asked, stepping up beside him.

Jorge sent a smile at the teens, "Me and my new friends were just getting acquainted. We're done now." This seemed satisfactory for the man and he turned and left, Jorge following behind him as if nothing had happened just seconds before.

"Hey, wait! You're not gonna help us?"

"Don't worry, hermano. We'll get you back to where you belong. Hang tight."

He chuckled at his joke or maybe the groans of the teens and disappeared out of the room. The moment she heard the click of the door, Cleo lifted her hand, using her jeans to pull herself upward, she fiddled with the chain around her ankles.

"What are you doing?" Newt hissed, getting the attention of the others.

"Getting out of here." Cleo gritted.

"And go where? What are you going to do after you get your feet undone?" He pressed, "I don't know if you saw but we are currently dangling over a pit."

Cleo hated that he was right. She dropped backwards, ignoring the jolt it sent through her body and squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel herself swinging from the momentum and got an idea. Opening her eyes, she snapped at Minho.

"Can you reach Teresa? If you both extend your arms." The two did as she asked, finding that they could just barely lock fingers.

"Good, pull her close and twist her so she's facing the ledge," Again they did as she instructed, "Push her."

"Okay?" Minho was hesitant, looking around.

"Teresa, try and grab a hold of the lever just enough to bring us down a couple inches. We can use that long stick thing they pushed us in with to get us out."

A chorus of admiration followed her directions, applauding her thinking skills.

"Minho, ready?" Thomas waved, putting them back on track.

Both Minho and Teresa nodded.

"Okay. One, two, here we go."

Minho shoved Teresa forward. She swung out, just barely missing the lip of the edge and Minho swung back into Newt and Cleo. They steadied him enough so he could grab a hold of Teresa once again.

"Come on, Minho. Push her harder!" Newt hissed.

On the third try, faith was dwindling.

"Alright, alright. This is it. Give it a little more 'umph'." Cleo tried to stay cheerful.

"Okay, one, two, umph." She wasn't sure if Minho was joking or if that was actual sound that escaped as he shoved Teresa forward but it worked. She grabbed a hold of the ledge enough to climb up and untie her feet. Without waiting, she grabbed the lever and lowered the others.

* * *

 **I'm thinking of doing a thing between this story and the Death Cure filled with stories of Cleo in the maze before The Maze Runner series and maybe even before the maze. If you guys have any requests feel free to send them in. It'll be like a filler until the Death Cure comes out!**

 **As always thanks for reading and reviewing and favoriting and all that, you guys are so great! Xx**


	9. Just Don't Die

***UPDATE* - Thank you to babyks2 for pointing it out, because I ALWAYS forget this. I type up the chapters in a word document and then upload them onto FF and for some reason they take out the divisions to separate scenes and POV's. I always tell myself to go back and fix that and then never do. Sorry about that guys! So if you've already read it and follow it and get another update, its the same chapter (Chapter 9), without any changes other than that. Xx**

* * *

Everything that happened next seemed to be going too fast for Cleo to process completely. One second their escape seemed short lived, stopped by a large gun held by a larger man, then a bullet revealed an unlikely but not surprising hero and they were running again. She barely had time to notice that Teresa had fallen behind as she dragged from the chamber and out into the open room again.

"Come on. Let's go!" Their temporary savior was leading them back towards Jorge's room.

Music played softly throughout the building, completely out of place amongst the chaos but it was another thing that Cleo would have to ask about at a later time. She wasn't sure where the threat was coming from, everyone around her moving about so rapidly that if they were clustered together, she wouldn't have been able to tell her friends and strangers apart. A hand clasped around her own as they ascended the stairs once again, and she tried to match Thomas's speed. Now wasn't the time to be curious.

Escape now, ask questions later.

"Brenda! Hurry!" Jorge appeared in front of them at the top of the stairs, shuttling them towards the back of the upper level to a large gaping hole in the wall.

"You have got to be kidding me." Minho gaped, stumbling to a stop alongside his friends.

"Plan B, hermano. You kids wanna get to the Right Arm?" Jorge revealed a small cloth band, "I'll lead you to them. But you're gonna owe me." He tossed one end of the band over the wire above his head and gave the group a smirk, "Follow me."

And then he was lifting off the ground, propelling himself out of the window. The teens watched with dropped jaws and wide eyes as his silhouette grew smaller and then ended at another depilated building. They glanced at one another before Brenda broke the silence and grabbed another cloth piece.

"Let's go."

Minho was the first to step forward, saying something sarcastic in a deadpanned tone and mimicking Jorge's actions. Newt and Frypan followed and then Aris. Teresa was next, squeezing Cleo's arm as she passed the other girl and took her turn leaping out the window.

Cleo was a little more hesitant than her friends, gripping tighter at Thomas's hand as the noise from below grew louder.

"Cleo, go. I'll be right behind you, okay?" Thomas urged her forward.

Reluctantly, she took the cloth from Brenda. Another nervous glance towards Thomas made him step forward, aiding her as she readied herself for the ride.

"Right behind you." He whispered just as Brenda took off.

The two whipped around, both reaching out to grab her but she was out of the room before either couldn't get a word out. Cleo could already see Thomas's heroics working their way up his throat. She sighed when he spun around, urgency in his expression.

Before he could speak, she pulled him down towards her, kissing him softly, "Just don't die, alright?"

He gave her a nod, unable to say anything in return and took off after Brenda. She watched him go, before leaping out the window.

The trip through the air lasted longer than she liked and she tried not to vomit halfway through. Heights had never been something she was comfortable with and under the circumstances she was in, it only made things worse. It didn't help that Newt and Minho were waiting to catch her at the other end. Ignoring how sweaty her palms were becoming and how sore her arms actually were, she anticipated being on the ground again. The moment was cut short as the explosion behind her sent her flying from the wire.

Jansen watched the explosion with utter disbelief. Covering his face from the heated flames, he drew back into the hanger.

Throwing his head back, he waited to see if any men would confirm they had survived. It took a few minutes but then finally a voice came through, patchy and overlaid by static.

"Jansen."

"Any other survivors?"

"A handful of us, yeah." The voice clarified.

Jansen pinched the bridge of his nose, "We have to go after the survivors."

"We have no idea where they're going. Or really, where they went."

"Doesn't matter. We have to find them. We have to stop them before the girl gets to her mother."

She was afraid to open her eyes. Her front side was burning with pain, and she could tell she was bleeding from somewhere on her face, the metallic tasted filling her mouth. Her ears were ringing, a high pitch buzzing sound blocking everything out, but against all odds a voice broke through.

"We've got you. You're okay."

Blinking away the dots in her vision, she found herself staring up at Newt. He and Minho were leaning over the side of the hole, each grasping at her arms. She fought the urge to break out in tears, letting her instinct kick in and placed her feet on the wall. With more help from the boys than she would like to admit, she was pulled up the side of building.

Once she was on stable ground, dropped to her knees, dry heaving.

"That was a nasty trip you took, Cariño." Jorge crouched down in front of her, lifting her chin up to examine the wound on her forehead.

"Thomas." She coughed, brushing away his hand and lifting to her feet.

He dropped his head, nodding solemnly, "All we can do right now is hope. Brenda knows what she's doing. He's safest with her."

 _Just don't die._

That boy deserved a nice right hook to the jaw the next time she saw him. _If_ she saw him again. Staring at Jorge for a moment longer, she accepted his outstretched hand and stood up. The first couple of seconds were wobbly but she ignored any help and was the first to follow Jorge out of the room they had come crashing into. There wasn't time to waste. Even if Thomas -and Brenda were dead, Wicked was still right behind them, they didn't have time to sit around.

Newt had stayed at Cleo's side as Jorge led them through the building into the next, eyeing her bleeding cut and emotionless expression. She had scrapped holes into the knees of her pants, specks of dried blood from where her body had been thrown into the side of the building. For the most part however, nothing seemed life threatening. He gathered pretty quickly that her wounds was easier to get past than the potential loss of Thomas, but couldn't find the right words to say.

Instead, he kept close, brushing shoulders with her every now and again as a reminder that he was there if she did need someone or something. She never seemed to notice his silent consoling until they reached the city once they had fallen behind the others.

"We can't do this without him, Newt." There was no emotion to her voice and the sun prevented him from seeing too much of her face.

"He's tough. He survived a night in the Maze and took Gally on more than once." He hadn't meant for it to but at the mention of the boy's name, Cleo's head dropped and she stared at the beige sand below.

Reaching out, Newt stopped her. He retrieved a bit of rag from his pocket, similar to the one that had carried him to safety only hours before and pressed it gently to her forehead. She flinched but didn't fight him, sighing.

"All I meant was that he's survived everything else. And he's always come back. He'll be fine, Cleo."

They began walking again, falling into a comfortable silence. Newt was right. Thomas was stubborn. Hardheaded. He would do whatever he had to, to survive. But things happen and Cleo had a bad habit of expecting the worse when it came to people she cared about.

"Plus, now he has something to really fight for."

She huffed softly. Newt was not helping in the slightest. Glancing his direction she saw his sly smile.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she stared straight ahead, "Now, you're just saying things to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction with her answer.

Thomas had never in his life, at least what he could remember, been around this many people at once. He felt caged in, arms glued to his side as he pushed through the crowd of dancing, drugged bodies. He and Brenda had split up earlier, searching for the others in the sea of unfamiliar faces and he hoped she was having more luck. Though the more crowded the place got, the more he wished they hadn't.

The drink he had been given before even stepping foot in the house was starting to take its toll. His legs were wobbly beneath him and he felt as if he were floating through the crowd rather than walking. Vision swimming around, he was relieved to see Brenda pushing her way towards him.

"That was fun!"

"What?" He could tell she was further gone than he was, her body leaning into his for stability, "Brenda?"

"They're not here." She slurred.

Thomas scanned the people around them, as if his friends would suddenly appear and they could leave this horribly uncomfortable place, "Okay, well, we should keep looking."

Brenda's face scrunched up in disagreement, peering up at him through her lashes, "Why?"

Thomas swallowed dryly.

"We couldn't find the Right Arm anyway. Not without Marcus," She pushed herself closer to him, "Your friends are gone. It's over," Closer, "It's just us now. Just try and relax."

Thomas scoffed, shaking his head at her. How could she be so calm. Wasn't Jorge her friend? Wasn't she even a little bit upset?

"How?" He shot back, harsher than he had intended.

"Like this?"

He let her kiss him. He wasn't sure why, but he had. It was brief, and he wasn't sure she had actually done it but, when they pulled away, it wasn't Brenda staring back at him. Cleo's features were muddled by the shifting lights of the house, hair draped around her shoulders, eyes peering up at him. He blinked, pushing her back some in surprise. But she was gone and Brenda had taken her place once again.

"What?" She stared puzzled.

Thomas swallowed and shook his head, "You're not her."

He knew he had hurt her feelings, only calling out her name as she slipped from his arms and back into the sea of people. Faces became distorted around him. Shifting into all his friends. Newt, Minho, Frypan. Cleo. All laced with the same black veins and sickly skin of the Cranks that had chased them before. As they moved in on him, it got harder for him to breath. He struggled away, tripping over his own feet -or someone else's he wasn't sure- and slipped into unconsciousness.

 _The screens laid splayed out in front of him, a different individual on each. Beside their image was a list of vitals. Their health, age, name, birthday. It was all there. One in particular stuck out amongst the others._

 _Cleo._

 _He had been staring at it for what felt like forever, taking her in. She looked nothing like the Cleo he had known. Of course, it was the same person but the Cleo he knew looked nothing like the Cleo in her photograph. Her bright eyes were vacant, lacking the luster and hopefulness they once had, her shoulders were stiff but still sagged, not held proudly, confidently. She looked tired, sad, betrayed. She looked lost._

 _Deciding he had had enough, he reached forward and pressed the small black button sectioned away from the others._

 _The screens went black momentarily before a vast green arena appeared. The figures moved around on the screen. Figures? These had been his friends. Newt. Cleo. Alby. He knew these people. He had done this to them. He had let them all down._

" _ **They're coming for me."**_

 _His hands fisted around the small rectangular device._

" _ **Keep it safe."**_

 _Looking back at the screen, he found her. She was squatted in front of a smaller boy away from the others. There was no way to tell what she was saying but her mannerisms were kind and gentle. He watched them for a while, smiling when she was able to get the boy onto his feet and over to the other boys._

 _Taking a deep breath, he looked at the device again. He shut off the monitors, the pictures of the kids appearing once again and moved quickly towards the door._

" _Thomas."_

"Thomas?"

His eyes took their time opening, adjusting to the bright light that was showering down on him before something blocked its path. Cleo's blonde hair and fair features came into view and for a second he thought he was still dreaming.

"Morning, Sunshine," She smiled softly, her hand resting on his shoulder. When he tried sitting up, she pushed back some, "Slow your roll. You're okay."

His hand found hers, relieved to find that she wasn't the only one that had survived as the rest of the group gathered closer to welcome their friend. His eyes found Brenda's next but she quickly looked away. He needed to talk to her, explain what had happened. But the sound of skin hitting skin distracted him.

* * *

 **It has been a minute since I updated and I'm sorry for that. School is ending soon so it's kind of crunch time. This chapter is one of the longer ones and that's just because it got away from me. As always, hope you enjoyed it and feel free to leave a comment! Xx**

 **Also, did anyone see the trailer for American Assassin? It is fantastic. Dylan is fantastic. I mean, just fantastic.**


	10. Author's Note

Hey guys! So sorry it's been over a month since my last update, but with school ending and finals and trying to get a new job and getting ready to move and a bunch of other things, I haven't had a lot of time to really devote time to write. I'm planning on having the next chapter up by the end of this week but I don't want to make any promises. I have a lot going on this week but the chapter is more than halfway done already and is more in the editing process than anything else, so just bear with me. Thanks so much to everyone that has read and review and favorited! Thanks to everyone who has been here for a while and have stayed, you guys are amazing. And thank you to everyone who have just recently joined, you guys are just as great! Look forward to a new chapter by (the latest, Monday) and thanks again! Xx -Kait


	11. Where's Bertha?

Cleo helped Thomas sit up, shifting his gaze over towards where Jorge was standing with her own. They watched the man throw a couple punches into whomever he had tied against the chair before Thomas was up on his feet. Cleo followed after, reaching for his arm as he made the motion to intervene; as much as she hated violence, this wasn't their place to object.

"I suggest you talk." Jorge growled.

The man, Thomas came to realize, was the same man that had made him drink that shitty cocktail entering the party. His face was swollen and bloody indicating that Jorge had been hitting him for a while. And by the looks of his friends that stood on the outskirt of the scene, they had grown almost used to the display of abuse. He quickly shifted his gaze at each one of them, only earning an almost unreadable response from Newt, Teresa, and Cleo.

"I'm sorry," The man released an aspirated chuckle and spit out blood, "You're going to have to leave my house."

The two men were momentarily distracted by Thomas's awakening, the man tied to the chair smirking a bit, "Looks like you've been having fun."

Quickly, Jorge was pulling his attention away, his voice calmer than before, "Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you. Okay?"

The man groaned.

"Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?"

"Wait, this is Marcus?" Thomas blinked, peaking even more interest. His eyes flashed back at his friends, but they had no response. To Thomas's misfortune, Jorge had clued them in on who Marcus was, or more or less, become over the years. They knew who he was before walking in the door.

Another laugh came from the captive, "The kid catches on quick," Through the swollen slits of his eyes, he looked towards the teen to his right, "Are you the brains of the operation?"

The words had barely left his mouth before Jorge grabbed at the short hairs on his head, lifting his eyesight away from Thomas and back on him, "I know you know where they're hiding. So you tell me, and I'll make you a deal. You can come with us."

Marcus chuckled once more, shaking his head, "I burned that bridge a long time ago. Besides, I made my own deal. You're the one who taught me, never miss an opportunity."

"What is he talkin about?" Newt spoke up from the back with no other notion of actually caring except for the quirk in his eyebrow. He exchanged a look with Minho and Cleo beside him, both of which mocked his cross-armed concentrated look.

"I'm talking about supply and demand. Wicked wants all the Immunes they can get. I help provide that for them," The group looked at each other, stiffening some, "So I lure kids in, they get drunk, they have a good time. And then, later, Wicked comes in, they separate the wheat from the chaff."

Another laugh echoed around the room, but this time it was more sinister and goosebumps travelled up Cleo's arms. She moved in closer to her friends, finding Thomas hand almost instinctively. She ignored the urge to cling to him completely, relying on just the indication that he was there, and steeled herself for whatever was going to come next.

Jorge looked over at Brenda, who was still laid out leisurely on the worn-out couch. She stared back briefly before looking away.

"I changed my mind, Hermano." He spoke through gritted teeth, "I do enjoy hurting you."

Before anyone could react, he raised up his leg and with force built on anger, kicked Marcus square in the chest. Without anyway of stopping himself, the restrained man toppled over backwards, letting out a groan of pain. The group watching stiffened when Jorge revealed the gun from underneath his jacket and stepped over to threaten Marcus once more.

"Talk. Talk!"

"Okay! Jesus!" Marcus wiggled about uncomfortably, "But I'm not making any promises. These guys like to move around."

Once it was established that his joking was only going get him killed, Marcus became a bit more serious. Jorge motioned for Thomas to help him and together they sat him back up. Marcus groaned and sucked in a deep breath, the wounds on his face only getting worse it seemed.

After a moment of regaining himself, he continued, "They have an outpost in the mountains. But it's a long way away. You got half of Wicked on your ass. You're never gonna make it."

Jorge grinned, "Not on foot."

Everyone looked at each other, confused.

"Where's Bertha?"

Marcus's chin quivered and he shrunk back a bit, "Not Bertha."

Jorge grinned even wider, turning to the teens behind him satisfied. It was contagious, the mischievous and childish grin he displayed and Cleo couldn't help her own lips turning upward slightly.

Sturdy and in as good of shape as they were, Bertha was glorious in Cleo's opinion. It smelt like old leather, faded and cracked from years of use and sunlight. She didn't even mind how cramped it was in the back, stuffed in the last row with Thomas and Minho. With the windows rolled down and the consistent rhythm of the rocky road beneath them, she found herself falling asleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

She wasn't sure how long she had napped, but it wasn't long enough. She wouldn't admit just how upset she was that they were forced to go on foot again, but vowed that if there was ever time, she was going to come back for Bertha.

Her blissful moment was cut short by gunshots ripping through the air around them, sending them all scattering to hide behind abandoned vehicles.

"Is everyone okay out there?" Thomas shouted from whether he had managed to duck to.

Teresa, pressed against Cleo's back, was the first to respond, "We're fine!"

With Newt following after, "Anyone know where those bloody shots came from!"

They looked to the surrounding bluffs, finding nothing of any kind of danger. Jumping when more bullets ricocheted off the car Thomas's head had just appeared behind.

After another silent few seconds, Jorge shouted out instructions, "Everyone! Get set to sprint back to the truck! And hold your ears!"

Confused, and a little terrified, the girls shot glances at one another and reached up to cover their ears. Whatever Jorge had planned was completely foiled, however, when two girls appeared with threateningly long guns.

"I said drop it!" One of the girls shouted out, "On your feet. Let's go."

Both men stood up, hands raised defenseless as the guns pushed them back towards the others.

"You two, over here now!" Minho and Newt were instructed to stand as well, mimicking the others stance.

They were pushed back even further, moving to the last remaining five before the mood shifted.

"Aris?" The girl's voice was softer than before, less demanding and threatening.

Cleo dared to take her eyes of them, along with the others, to shoot a look back at the younger boy. He seemed terrified at first, which was understandable, but it didn't last long. A small smile of relief broke out on his features.

"Oh my God. Harriet?" He pushed through Teresa and Cleo to throw his arms around the girl- Harriet and hugged her tightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, burying her face in the crock of his neck.

"Aris, you're lucky we didn't shoot your dumb ass." The other girl, a red head, moved in next, hugging him just as tightly as the first had.

Confused as she was, Cleo decided not to break up the reunion. Regardless of who they were, they were still outnumbered in artillery. Minho, clearly hadn't had the same idea.

"What's happening?"

"We were in the Maze together," Aris explained almost too breathlessly.

Harriet let out a sharp whistle, shouting into the canyon around them, "We're clear, guys! Come on out!"

And they watched as numerous, small silhouettes appear from the very crevices their eyes had been searching just a few moments prior. Things moved fast after that. Men appeared from all around them, ducking out of cars and coming to surround the group.

"Wait, how did you guys get here?" Aris asked, sticking close to his reunited friends. The others, though lagging behind some, kept their ears and eyes alert.

"The Right Arm got us out." Harriet replied.

Things moved quickly then. Talk of the Red Arm put the group in motion, and before she could grasp everything, she was being loaded into the back of a large black vehicle with her friends and new found allies.

This trip didn't last as long and Cleo didn't enjoy this jeep as much as she had Bertha, so she busied herself with twiddling her thumbs and gnawing at the inside of her cheek. Road turned into rough terrain and then moments later, they were being let back out and led to a small campsite. Base, as Harriet had called it.

"They've been planning this for over a year now," Sonya, the red head, explained, "This is all for us."

"You guys are lucky you found us when you did. We're moving out at first light," Harriet added, before turning to a person nearby, "Where's Vince?"

"Somewhere over there, I think." They responded, returning to their work.

Cleo matched the two girls pace, anxiety running wild, "Who's Vince?"

"He's the one who decides if you get to stay." Harriet grinned in response.

Thomas came up beside Cleo then, his own anxiety and mind trying to process everyone at once, "I thought the Right Arm was supposed to be an army?"

A man appeared in front of them, long sandy brown hair and a thick beard and mustache. He looked older than he probably was, years of fighting and running had taken its toll on him. But he held his shoulders straight and carried himself confidently.

"Yeah, we were. This is all that's left of us. Lot of good people died getting us this far," He turned to the two girls, "Who are they?"

"They're Immunes. Caught 'em coming up the mountain."

"Did you check 'em?" His voice was gruff, deep and worn.

Harriet jutted a thumb towards Aris, "I know this guy, Aris. I trust him."

Vince ran his tongue over his teeth, examining them briefly, "Well, I don't. Check 'em."

* * *

 **Once again, sorry about it being late! Thanks everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy! Xx**


	12. Another Author's Note

Just a quick update guys! I just wanted to let everyone know that I haven't given up on this story! I hit a bit of a writer's block and this chapter that I'm working on has not been kind to me. I'm still working out some kinks and trying to get it to my liking. It might be a couple more days before I get it posted so bear with me. Plus, I just recently moved into my first apartment and started school so my time has been taken up. Hope I haven't lost you guys. Much, much love. Xx


	13. A Gift Of Biology Of Evolution

**Hello! And I'm sorry! I know it's been forever and I don't have much of an excuse other than life got in the way. I had to put this on the back burner more often than I wanted to, but I've had some time recently to get it written down and edited. I'm still not entirely sure how much I like this chapter, and I might come back later to edit it, but I am happy with it for now and hope you guys enjoy it! Xx**

* * *

She was shoved forward by a large man, bumping shoulders with Newt, and sent a sneering glare back at her abuser. He showed no emotion, just a quick once over before moving on to examine Frypan. As much as they wanted to, no one fought back, opting to stay as civil as they could.

Cleo was the only one to see Brenda's paled expression and wobbling legs and reached out to the sickly girl. Just as her hand wrapped around a thin wrist, Brenda went head first between Thomas and Jorge, hitting the ground in a dull thud. Cleo was dragged along with her momentarily and she watched the girl begin to convulse.

"Brenda!" Jorge was immediately on the ground, cradling the girl's face in his calloused hands, "Talk to me."

The girl managed to push out an apology, eyes rolling back into her head as she convulsed more. Thomas dropped beside Jorge, offering assistance he wasn't sure would help as the others watched on with panic and confusion. Vince had also knelt down to get a closer look at the girl and nearly fell backwards on his ass as he jumped away, exposing a large bite mark on her leg.

"Shit," His gun was drawn in an instant and before she could think straight, Cleo was putting herself between the barrel and her friends, "Crank! We got a Crank!"

Thomas came up beside Cleo, shielding her with an arm as he held the other up in defense, "No! No! Wait, wait. Listen, okay? This just happened, okay?"

Tension was heavy; no one said a word. Everyone standing at the ready, waiting for someone to make the first move. Cleo was rigid beside Thomas, staring at the gun rather than its owner, waiting for him to fire it.

"She's not dangerous." She assured. She hadn't known the girl long, but aside from their first encounter, Jorge and Brenda had done nothing but help them. And she wasn't going to let another person die. Not if she could help it.

"You shouldn't have brought her here!" Vince shouted back, grip tightening on his gun.

"I know, we know." Cleo reasoned. Had they known she was bit, they would have done better at hiding it, or explaining it before it came to this. Her eyes shifted to Thomas with momentary anger, accusing him of keeping it from them, but that was a conversation for another time.

Vince's jaw locked, "We let Cranks in here now, the Safe Haven doesn't last a week!"

It was Thomas that answered this time, placing himself in front of Cleo, "I understand, okay? I understand. Just listen. Please. Please, okay? I told her that you could help. Okay? No, there's got to be something you can do."

Vince nodded solemnly, "Yeah, there is," He adjusted his aim on Brenda once more and Cleo's hand tightened around Thomas' arm, "I can put her out of her misery."

Cleo moved herself so she was obstructing his line of fire and stared him down. The group had grown hostile, tensing up; ready to fight their way out of this like they had so many times before. But another voice rose over the crowd, and Cleo's head whipped around so fast it startled the man reaching to grab at her.

"Let him go."

At first all she could see was the brown hair weaving through the crowd before a woman came up beside Vince and lowered his gun.

Vince, flabbergasted, lifted it once more, "She's infected, Doc. There's nothing we can do for her."

The woman smiled, eyes shifting towards Thomas, "No, but he can."

Cleo's hand dropped from Thomas' arm, lips parting in shock as the woman moved closer. Their eyes met briefly, but if the woman knew her, she didn't give any hint to it.

"Hello, Thomas."

Thomas, in his own shock, swallowed and squinted at her, "What? You know me?"

She narrowed her eyes in a thoughtful manner, smirking, "Interesting. It makes sense they'd put you in the maze," Her attention shifting to Cleo, "Both of you. Though, I must admit," Back to Thomas, "I was worried they'd kill you after what you two did."

"What we did?"

"The first time we spoke, Thomas, you said you couldn't take it anymore. Watching your friends die, one by one," The woman smiled fondly, "The last time we spoke, you gave me the coordinates of every Wicked compound, trial and lab. A small file, stolen by you, Cleo."

A nauseous feeling came over Cleo and she was finally able to look away from the woman. She felt lightheaded, a wave of memories slamming against her and piling up on one another as she tried to keep herself on her feet.

"They were our source," The woman turned back to her own people, "We couldn't have pulled all this off without them," She motioned towards Brenda then, "Take her to the tent. Get these guys some warm clothes."

People started moving as if they hadn't just been hostile with one another. Brenda was lifted carefully off the ground by a large man Cleo hadn't seen, and carried up the small incline to a large tent while the others were slowly directed off to the side by Harriet and Sonya. Thomas was already moving to follow the woman when Cleo was finally able to find her voice.

"Mom?"

The word stopped all her friends, each turning to look first at her and then to the woman she was speaking to. The woman had paused, and for a moment kept her back to the young girl. Cleo's chin quivered, heart beating a mile a minute.

"I was hoping you would remember me," The woman looked back finally, "But that conversation will have to wait, my dear. We have to help your friend first."

0000

She had followed Thomas and her mother to a large medical tent silently. The sick feeling in her stomach had yet to subside and a million questions ran through her mind. She watched the woman working rhythmically, taking blood from Thomas and prepping Brenda for whatever she was going to do. Jorge stayed uncharacteristically quiet beside Brenda, never speaking a word, never looking away from the shivering girl.

"In the beginning, we were lost. All we knew for sure," She looked at them, "was that the younger you were, the stronger your chances."

Thomas looked to Cleo before speaking, noting the girls stiffened posture. Her eyes hadn't left the woman, not that he could blame her. Her proclamation outside had shaken all of them, even he wasn't sure what to say exactly. So he did what he did best and started question everything.

"You worked for Wicked?"

"A long time ago. You know, at first, we had the best intentions," Mary explained, her own eyes drifting to her little girl, "Find a cure, save the world. It was clear you kids were the key, because you were immune."

"But why?"

Mary moved to a table in the back corner, taking with her a vile of Thomas' blood. She mixed it with a blue liquid, holding it so the others could see, "An enzyme produced by the brains of the immune. Once separated from the bloodstream it can serve as a powerful agent to slow the spread of the virus."

"So you found a cure?" Cleo had asked the question, her attention finally shifting from Mary to Brenda, her own curiosity overwhelming shock.

"Not exactly. The enzyme can't be manufactured, only harvested from the immune. The young. Of course, that didn't stop Wicked. If they had their way, they'd sacrifice an entire generation. All for this," Mary held up the vile, "A gift of biology. Of evolution."

"But not meant for all of us." Cleo mumbled. She had taken Brenda's hand to lend consolation, squeezing the sweaty palm in her own.

They watched as Mary stuck the needle into her thin arm, draining the liquid into her bloodstream. Brenda seemed to relax immediately, her breathing slowing back down and her grip on Cleo's hand loosening some.

"How long will that give her?" Thomas asked from beside Cleo.

"It's different for everyone. A few months maybe. But that's the catch, isn't it?" Mary sighed, "She'll always need more."

With that she returned to the table and discarded the needle. She returned to place a hand on  
Jorge's shoulder and smiled kindly, "Let's go outside. Let them rest."

Jorge was slow getting up, his hand lingering in Brenda's before he finally followed Mary outside. Cleo stayed behind a moment longer.

"Go. You should talk to her. You need to." Thomas spoke quietly in her ear. He was becoming drowsy, sleep catching up to him.

She sighed, not looking at him. She knew he was right, but nerves had frozen her to her chair. What was there to talk about? Of course, she had a million questions but she barely knew her mother. How would she even start a conversation like that? Where would she begin?

Thomas's hand rested on her knee gently, "It'll be fine, Cleo. Go talk to her."

Finally looking at him, she nodded and stood from her place beside Brenda's cot. Thomas squeezed her hand as she passed, sending her an encouraging smile and she left the tent without saying anything.

0000

Outside, Jorge was seated only a few feet away. He was facing the tent, but his head was resting in his hands. He looked up when she appeared and she gave him a reassuring nod before her eyes wandered to the woman standing just beside him.

"Come along, kiddo. We have some catching up to do."

0000

It all felt like a dream. Sitting beside her mother, eating an actual meal. She half expected to wake up back in the glade, her mother a distant memory, a voice in the back of her mind. But she wasn't. She was here. They were both here. Together. Finally.

"You were always the rebellious type. Even with small insignificant things. You were always trying to find a better way. The right way. You and your father both. Stubborn. Brave." Mary smiled fondly at her daughter, admiring the woman she had become. For years she had spent believing her daughter was dead and now, here she was. A survivor.

"What happened to my dad?" Cleo asked setting her plate at her feet. She was never one to leave any scrapes but what she had eaten had filled her up. She had never been full before, and now she felt like she might burst.

"We lost a lot of people getting here. Your father being one of them. But he would have been proud of you. You remind me a lot of him."

"I used to dream about you," Cleo blinked, "When I was in the Maze. I would hear your voice in my dreams. You would tell me that I was going to get myself in trouble. That what I was doing was dangerous."

Mary nodded, smiling slightly, "You wanted to help your friends. And you were smart. You knew how to get what you wanted. And Thomas would do anything for you," Cleo ducked her head, blushing, "So when you decided you'd take things into your own hands, there wasn't much we could do. We didn't even get to say goodbye. One day you were there and the next," Mary swallowed, "You were gone."

She reached out to brush hair from Cleo's face, admiring her once more, "I never thought I'd get the chance to see you again."

Cleo smiled sadly, "Me neither."

Composing herself, Mary let her arm drop back into her lap and continued, "The day they took you, that's when your father and I decided we were going to fight. Thomas giving me the chip only gave us a weapon to retaliate with."

Cleo shook her head. She didn't want to believe it was happening. After everything they had witnessed, everything they had to go through to get here, she couldn't believe something this good could be happening. She blinked as her eyes started to water.

Mary, noticing her daughter's change in demeanor, took her hand and stood them up, "You've suffered enough, you and your friends. And I'm so proud of how strong you've been. How strong you have always been. I'm sorry for the things you've had to endure and see, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you," She squeezed her hand, "But I'm here now."

Cleo let herself cry then and for the first time since she could remember, stepped into her mother's embrace. Mary held her while she cried, soothing her as best as she could. Cleo didn't try to refrain herself any longer. She let her shoulders shake and her breath get caught in her throat. She cried for Chuck, for Winston, for Alby, hell, even for Gally, for all the people they had lost, for all the times she had been scared. All the frustration and sadness and anger she had felt. And when she had finished and had dried her eyes, she felt safe and hopeful.


	14. Please Don't Fight Them

She sat with her mother until the sun had set behind the mountains, learning what she could about her childhood; about who she was before the maze.

"You were a great child. You were stubborn of course, but nevertheless, a wonderful child. Your father and I adored you. You learned about Wicked because of us and when you asked for a job, we knew you had something up your sleeve. Ava liked you," Mary looked at her hands, "She was always asking to use you for testing. If we didn't know better, we might have let her have you. 'She could be the cure' she would say over and over again."

"If you knew about what they were doing, why didn't you do anything to stop them?" Cleo inquired.

Mary sighed, "We tried. We held small rebellions but they always won. Until you gave the file to Thomas. We had something to use against them then. We weren't sure where they had placed you. And once we raided the base Thomas said they took you, you weren't there. We didn't know if you were dead or alive."

Cleo watched her mother wring her hands together, taking in a deep breath, and reached over to grab her hands, "I'm alive. And for the most part, okay. I mean, there might be a few hiccups here and there, but I'm okay."

Her mother laid her hand over her daughter's and smiled soft, "I know. I know."

000

Talking with her mother had exhausted her. Emotions and tension weighed on her shoulders and added to the minor injuries she had sustain throughout their trip. Sleep sounded like music to her ears. But she could just make out her friends up on the ridgeline, talking with one another. Frypan shouted out something she didn't quite catch, but Aris twisted from his spot between his own friends on her left and waved in return. Cleo smiled when she saw her boys laugh and made her way over up to them. A few minutes wouldn't hurt.

They were sitting quietly, looking up at her when she arrived. She wasn't sure if the silence was coincidence or if they had ended their conversation with her arrival but she didn't care much. She was too tired to fight; too tired to talk for that matter. Instead, she sank onto the ground beside Thomas's leg, resting her head against the rock he was seated on and wrapped her arms around herself. It was colder, obviously, away from the fires, but her heart felt warm. Her hope had returned, and not just for her group, but for everyone. For these people. For the kids still at the compound. They were going to win and everything was going to be fine. She was sure of it.

"What do you think?" Frypan's voice broke her away from her thoughts and she turned to him blinking.

"What?"

"What do you think about all of this?" He extended a hand to fan over the camp below them and she looked down.

Aris was laughing with his friends. Vince and a group of men were pulling in more firewood. Her mother was just stepping out of the medic tent, Jorge behind her. The rest of the camp seemed to work in unison; together. She smiled and made herself more comfortable, relaxing when Thomas's hand brushed against her shoulder.

"I think this is good. We're good. I think we have a chance."

000

"Have any of you seen Teresa?" She wasn't sure how long they had been sitting up there, and she was too exhausted to realize they were a person short until just now. Scanning over the camp again, she couldn't find the girl.

"She went up there." Frypan pointed behind his shoulder.

Sure enough, Teresa was standing on a taller ledge, her back to them. She was wrapped in a thick blanket from what Cleo could see and something peaked curiosity in her mind. Pushing off the ground, Cleo brushed herself off.

"I'm gonna go talk to her. See you guys in a bit."

There was a chorus of response behind her, but she was trekking her way over to the other mountain. It was darker now, and the path was more rigorous than the first. She was dreading the hike back down. But she didn't want Teresa to be alone, especially if there was something wrong. The familiar throbbing pain in her ankle had returned by the time she reached the top, but she blamed herself for that. Never giving it the chance to heal, she was had to just grit her teeth and ignore it. Besides, she was getting used to her body aching.

Teresa didn't move when Cleo appeared behind her. The blonde wasn't sure if she even knew she was there. Slowly, she stepped closer, hoping not to startle her when she spoke.

"Hey, you okay?"

Teresa's head whipped around quickly, but she didn't seem startled. She didn't say anything, but returned to look out at the bordering ridge.

"What are you doing up here?" Cleo came to stand beside her, blinking out at the darkness to see if she could find what had Teresa's attention.

"Thinking." Teresa responded plainly.

Cleo looked over at her, studying her determined yet expressionless features. Aside from the blank staring and one word response, nothing about Teresa seemed unusual. Another red flag went up in Cleo's mind. Figuring she just needed time to herself, Cleo cleared her throat and turned back the way she came.

"I'll let you be alone." She spoke softly, letting her hand rest on her friend's arm before walking away.

She had just reached the other side when Teresa called out to her. She spun around immediately, expecting the girl to unravel. But Teresa never changed.

"I remember my mother." The words made the hair on the back of Cleo's neck stand up. She wasn't sure what to respond with. This wasn't what she had expected when she came up here. Her eyes flickered to where the Medic tent would be if a large boulder hadn't been obstructing her view and then back to Teresa.

"She was a beautiful woman," The brunette continued, "Everybody loved her. And before Wicked, she was all I had. When she got sick, I didn't know what to do," Cleo's stomach knotted; she knew where this was going, "I just kept her locked up. Hidden. I thought she'd get better. Every night, she'd make these awful sounds, like screaming," the echo of the Cranks that had chased them sounded through her ears, "And then one night, she just stopped. She was finally quiet."

The feeling of dread swept through Cleo as Teresa took a step forward. It took all that she had not to move away from the girl, hands starting to sweat. She could just make out the tears in Teresa's eyes and felt immediately guilty for being somewhat frightened of her friend.

"I went down to her room, and there was blood everywhere," Teresa continued, "But she was just sitting there, calm." The girl stopped once more, this time as if she was waiting for Cleo's reaction. But Cleo was still flabbergasted. She blinked at Teresa, trying to put pieces together; trying to finish the statement herself when Teresa finally blurted out,

"She took her eyes out, Cleo."

Cleo swallowed, blinking away her own tears, "Why are you telling me this?"

Teresa's fingers played with the hem of the blanket. Another red flag.

"There are millions of people suffering out there. Millions of stories, just like mine."

Cleo nodded, following along closely.

"We can't turn our backs on them. I won't."

Cleo shook her head, confused, "None of us will, Teresa. That's why we're out here. We'll figure something out. With the Right Arm-"

"That's not what I'm saying." Teresa interrupted.

"What _are_ you saying?" Cleo blinked. Teresa wasn't acting like herself. There was definitely something off.

"I'm saying, I want you to understand."

Cleo's stomach knotted, heart beating a mile a minute, "Understand, what? What's going on Teresa?"

"Why I did what I did."

Cleo furrowed her eyebrows. She was about to open her mouth again when bright lights on the horizon caught her eye. Her heart dropped into her stomach immediately. Confusion dissipated into fear.

"Please don't fight them, Cleo."

Cleo's body went rigid. Her eyes shot from the advancing carriers to Teresa. She shook her head, telling herself it couldn't be true. She didn't want it to be true.

"It was you," She finally rasped, tripping over her own feet as she backed away from the girl, "It was you back at the compound. When Jansen stuck that needle in my neck, you were there. You," Her voice waivered, out of anger or hurt, she wasn't sure, "You let them drug me. You would have let them take me."

Teresa was crying now and when she reached for Cleo, the blonde girl couldn't help but completely turn from her. She scrambled down the side of the mountain before Teresa could stop her, slipping and sliding until her feet were on flat ground and she took off. She had to get to the others.

She was halfway back to camp when a figure came from her left and slammed into her. She ignored them, pushing away to continue on, but an arm snaked around her waist.

"Cleo!" It was Thomas, his eyes wide and alarmed, "What's going on?"

"Teresa! She brought them here. They're coming!"

"Who? Who's coming? Who is that?"

"Wicked." She was already pulling from his grasp, latching onto his arm to drag him after her.

Thomas was soon running just ahead of her, their hands still intertwined. Cleo tried to keep herself focused on her immediate mission of saving the people in the camp and her friends and pushed Teresa out of her head. But everything came crashing down around her when the first explosion stopped them in their tracks. The second one made her emit a heart-wrenching sob and Thomas pulled her into him.

* * *

 **Alright, so I'm stopping it there and the next chapter will be all action as well as the last chapter. From there, I might start working on some snippets of things about Cleo and the others before the Maze as well as in the Maze before Thomas arrived and the events of the movie/book begin. If you have any request or anything I can do, like oneshot things, her interaction with certain characters, whatever, you can PM or leave a review whichever you prefer. That being said, thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed! And feel free to leave a review, favorite, follow, whatever you please! Xx**


	15. We Are With You

_Metal grinding against metal._

 _People screaming._

 _Chuck's boyish features staring up at her terrified._

" _Go to the Council Hall and start barricading the doors. Don't open them until someone comes to get you."_

 _The boy only nodded._

 _Running._

 _She was headed for the tree line, panic instilling itself in her bones. She wanted to scream out, warn everyone but it seemed to be too late. Then she was being lifted off her feet, spun around in the other direction. Gally stood over her, screaming something she didn't hear._

 _She dropped into the box, the floor shaking some with the sudden weight. Three other boys she recognized but couldn't name cowered in the darkness and the door above slammed shut._

 _Flames climbed huts and trees, the heat and smoke making her eyes water. She looked around at her home, the remnants of what remained and let out a sob. Her heart ached as she tried to drown out the hollow cries of injured and terrified boys. Everything they had, gone. In minutes. Taken from them without hesitation. Her hands shook and she couldn't pin point the feeling building inside her. In the distant, she could hear the metal whirling and growling of retreating Grievers._

 _Closing her eyes, she prayed that when she opened them again it would all be a dream._

It hadn't been a dream, but the Glade had disappeared. Instead, the Right Arm's camp lay before her, the stinging wave of heat from another explosion blowing past her as she tightened her grasp on Thomas. The metal grinding had been replaced with gunfire, Grievers replaced with Wicked soldiers.

People panicked below, but seemed to be doing what they could, defending their camp. Men in black suits dropped down from above, their weapons more advanced and powerful than the fighters. Cleo and Thomas watched in horror as people were being taken down left and right.

Finally, with a tug, Thomas pulled her along behind him, entering the camp from the back. They hoped to get as close as they couldn't without being caught. Cleo's only priority was to get her friends safe and as far away as she could. She spotted them surrounding a truck just on the outer ring of the camp with Vince in the cab and Harriet and Sonya, handling guns as if they were born to do so. Firing at anyone coming for them, they were handling themselves well enough.

She slipped her hand out of Thomas's causing the boy to spin around towards her.

"Go! Find Brenda and Jorge! I'll get the others!"

She was gone before he could reply, dodging explosions and gunfire. The smoke coated her lungs and she could taste it on her tongue. Coughing, her vision blurred with watery eyes. She could make out her friends just a head of her before a rather thick cloud of dust blocked her line of sight. Pushing through, she ran straight into one of Wicked's guard, his gun pointed at her forehead. She stumbled backwards, hands up in defense and searched rapidly for a way out. Her friends continued to shoot until a blue spark ignited at Vince's feet and they dropped to the ground, convulsing. Her minor distraction enabled the guard to grab ahold of her. With one arm twisted behind her back and a gun pressed to her shoulder blade, she had no other choice than to comply.

Above her, a helicopter descended. It kicked up dust that burnt her eyes but she could still see Jansen step out and walk confidently towards the line of people kneeling on the ground.

The rest of her friends were placed at the front and she was positioned between Frypan and Aris. Everyone was accounted for. She found her mother, making eye contact with the woman. Mary gave her a small shake of her head and Cleo swallowed.

A man stood to her left, holding a clipboard. His eyes would flicker up towards them every now and again, his mouth silently moving. Then he would write something down and repeat the process. Another man, this one masked, stepped behind Sonya. Pushing her head forward, he held a small black device to the back of her head. He moved to Aris next; pushing his head forward, pressing the device to his neck.

Cleo resisted some, but he had more leverage and before she knew it the device was pressed against her neck. It was cold to the touch and gave her goosebumps but she ignored it, whipping her head back in defiance when he let go.

"A-7." He gruffed stepping behind Frypan to repeat his process.

He did this all the way down the line, before stepping off to the side by the man with the clipboard once he was finished.

Jansen had arrived finally, striding confidently through the people to stand in front of them.

"How many did we get?" He asked the man with the clipboard.

The man didn't even glance upwards from his paper, "All of them. Give or take."

"Give or take?" Jansen repeated, raising a questioning eyebrow.

The man met his look, a small smirk on his lips, "Well, they lost a few."

Jansen turned to survey the crowd again. The Gladers sat silently, each inching for the opportunity to jump up and continue fighting. But they were heavily outnumbered and the guns pointed at them were a reminder of that. Now, they were left to deal with whatever came next.

"Where's Thomas?" Jansen turned back to his men. The others searched for their leader, realizing then that he wasn't alongside them. Cleo felt relieved that he had escaped, but the feeling vanished when he spoke out.

"Right here."

Jansen had his guards on him with a snap of his fingers, the teenager being pushed to stand toe to toe with the older man. He smiled that disgusting, shit eating grin Cleo detested so greatly before punching Thomas in the gut. Thomas bent over, wheezing as his friends protested. They were held back by guards and Thomas was dragged to kneel beside Minho.

"Bring her in." Jansen spoke out into the air, and the soft hum of another carrier moved over the Mountain ridge.

"Why didn't you run?" Minho elbowed Thomas, the others sat silently but all felt the same.

Thomas continued to stare at Jansen, his jaw clenching and unclenching, "I'm tired of running."

000

Ava Page looked just like she did when they saw her after escaping the Maze. Her white clothing greatly contrasted the dark world around her, and it was obvious she held herself with self-proclaimed dignity. Her steps were calculated and powerful, shoulders held back and straight, chin lifted so she was looking down her nose at the teenagers kneeling in front of her.

"Is this all of them?" She turned to Jansen, who stood beside her, his own self-proclaimed dignity radiating off him.

"Most of them," He shared a look with Ava, "It'll be enough."

Ava seemed satisfied with this and flicked her wrist nonchalantly, "Start loading them in."

Guards shuffled into motion immediately, pulling people from their knees and leading them, single file, towards the large carrier. Jansen shouted orders as if to remind everyone that he, too, was in authority and Thomas was pulled to his feet once again.

"Hello, Thomas." Ava stepped forward.

Another figure had arrived to their left, and the others rose to their feet. They followed Teresa as she came to stand beside Ava, their expression just as jumbled as the emotions they were feeling.

"I'm glad your safe." Ava spoke to the girl as if to clarify she had betrayed them.

"What the hell?" Minho spoke first, and the others trailed behind.

"Wait, what's going on?" Newt questioned, eyes shifting from the bashful brunette to Thomas and then back at Cleo.

Cleo met his eyes solemnly, "She's with them."

"Since when?"

"Teresa's always had an evolved appreciation of the greater good," Jansen explained, "Once we restored her memories, it was only a matter of time."

The group couldn't tear their eyes from their friend. She had betrayed them. She had gotten people hurt. Teresa kept her eyes on the ground, toes digging into the dirt before she finally looked at them.

"I'm sorry," Teresa cried, "I had no choice. This is the only way. We have to find a cure."

But the apology wasn't accepted. Cleo wasn't sure it ever would be. By the looks of it, the others seemed to agree with her thought.

"She's right. This is all just a means to an end. You used to understand that, Thomas. No matter what you think of me," She cleared her throat, understanding she wasn't getting through to any of them, "I'm not a monster. I'm a doctor. I swore an oath to find a cure!"

Cleo scoffed, shaking her head, "No matter the cost."

"I just need more time." Ava glanced to her.

"More blood." Another voice intervened and Mary appeared, making her way towards the front of the crowd.

Ava stiffened as Mary approached, eyes shifting to Cleo again briefly.

"Hello, Mary. I hope we'd meet again. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

Mary nodded, "I'm sorry about a lot of things, too. But not this," She looked to her daughter, "At least my conscience is clear."

Ava lifted her head a bit, "So is mine."

The gunshot was unexpected and screams rippled throughout the crowd. Everyone checked themselves and one another to find who had been targeted. Mary had fallen silent, her eyes widening a bit and Jansen stepped up beside Ava. The gun in his hand was still raised, smoke rising from the barrel. Blood pooled on Mary's shirt and a stillness rushed over the crowd.

Cleo took a step forward, unable to stop the heart-wrenching sob that fell from her lips as her mother crumbled into Vince's arms. She pushed past Aris and Frypan before Jansen's gun was pointed at her head.

"Uh-uh." She froze, watching the life leave her mother's eyes. When she was able to look away, she found her friends staring at her, each holding what she could only assume was sympathy.

Ava ordered for the rest to be loaded up, and things began moving again. Teresa turned to Cleo, starting to say something, but Ava stopped her, leading her back towards the carrier.

Sonya and Aris were taken by the arms, dragged away when Thomas started shouting. They all turned to find him holding out a bomb, his finger resting on the trigger. Another wave of panic came rushing in.

"Stand back! Everyone stand back!" Thomas threatened.

Jansen, surprisingly, waved his hands, ordering his men to hold their fire.

"Thomas, put it down." Ava pushed.

Thomas was shaking, tears in his eyes, but he held the bomb out in front of him, "Let 'em all go."

"You know I can't do that!" Ava insisted.

Teresa stepped up beside her, trying to plead with him, "Thomas, please stop. I made a deal with them. They promised we'd be safe. All of us."

"And we're supposed to trust you now?" He spat back causing the girl to shrink behind Ava some.

"It's true," Ava nodded, "It was her only condition."

"Shut up!" Thomas's voice bellowed out.

Ava shook her head, "Everything can go back to the way it was."

Cleo inched closer to her friends. She was willing to die if it meant all of this stopped. She would die for her friends, and for the Right Arm. She would die if that's what it took. Looking at her friends, she knew they were thinking the same.

"Thomas, do you really want all of them to die?" Ava's words seemed to fit perfectly.

Together the four moved to stayed around Thomas, solidifying their allegiance to him. Teresa whimpered behind the older woman.

"We're with you, Thomas." Minho reassured.

Ava and Jansen continued to persuade him but Thomas had made up his mind.

"Do it, Thomas." Cleo breathed.

Thomas closed his eyes, as did the others, his finger inching on the trigger. Just when Cleo expected the bomb to go off and the world to end, a blaring horn came from behind them. They all spun around to see Bertha barreling down the side of the mountain, Jorge laughing behind the wheel. He drove the truck straight into the helicopter. The machine exploded, sending the crowd ducking for cover.

With the sudden change of events, the group scattered, already grabbing what weapons they could to fight. Hell broke loose then, captives escaping and Wicked soldiers trying to wrangle everyone in again. As a crowd of them came rushing forward with guns, the group staggered backwards.

"Thomas, the bomb!" Cleo shouted at the boy, watching him eye the device wildly before tossing it into the soldiers. He didn't hesitate pressing to the button, turning and dropping to the ground as the explosion rang out. Cleo pulled him back to his feet and dragged him away from the chaos, back towards the others.

People shouted wildly, pushing the escaping teens as far from Wicked as they could. Cleo kept her head ducked, hoping to dodge any bullets coming her way, and kept up with Newt and Frypan. Thomas's yelling from behind, reassured her he was there. She was relieved to see that Minho has ahead of them, aiming a gun at the men pursuing them.

"I gotcha!" He shouted just as she passed him and she sent him a nod, for a moment she was back in the glade, jogging past him on their way to their respected jobs and she flattered, blinking once more, she was brought back to the war around them and yanked behind an overturned container alongside Newt and Frypan.

Thomas came stumbling along seconds later, her hand latching to his jacket to keep the four of them as crammed behind the cannister as possible. Her breath caught in her throat as Minho's gun jammed, Wicked fastly approaching.

"Minho!" Her voice cracked at the sudden outburst but the words fell flat underneath the sound of gunfire and explosions. She watched as a single round was fired and an electric wave rippled through her friend's body. His body stiffened, convulsing tightening before hitting the container behind him in a hard thud. Thomas ripped from her grasp and leapt to his feet, already racing to rescue his friend. From their left, Jorge appeared, firing at Wicked soldiers in his own attempt to help. The other three jumped into action, unsure what they were going to do once they reached their friend. Cleo's eyes never left Minho's, even after he was lifted to his feet by men and dragged away. She wanted to scream, cry, race after them but nothing happened. Instead, she let Newt take her arm and drag her back with the others as Thomas kicked and screamed against Jorge's embrace.

Minho was loaded into the back of the carrier, his head lobbing back and forth as he fought consciousness and then he disappeared within the sea of soldiers. The remaining few stood on the ridge of the camp, mourning for the fallen and taken. Just before the door close, Cleo caught Teresa moving to stand beside Ava. Her heart broken then, if it hadn't already done so before, and she looked to the ground, flinching as the carrier lifted into the air and disappeared into the night sky.

000

Morning came slowly, most of the survivors using the rest of the night to recover any dead and to pick up what they could. Cleo stayed away from where her mother was laid, though the stark white sheet, placed over her for the time being, stuck out like a sore thumb. She hadn't spoken to anyone, let alone looked at them, and for the past couple of hours, she mindlessly collected anything they might be able to use. It wasn't until the sun was peaking over the mountains that Thomas silently guided her back to the others to sit and drink what little water they had to spare.

"What do we do now?" She asked, though her voice was soft and hoarse. She had directed the question to her friends, something she had grown used to doing and was a bit surprised when Vincent was the one to reply.

"Well, we pick up what's left of us. We stick to the plan," He came to stand beside, "We get you kids to the safe haven. Then we start over, I guess."

She wanted to laugh. _Safe Haven?_ For the past week, they had been moved from "Safe Haven" to "Safe Haven" and all it had led to was more danger. They were never going to be "safe" and it was time to come to terms with that.

"I'm not going with you." All heads turned to the brunette boy. His bag was already strapped around his body, signaling that he meant what he was saying and there wasn't going to be any convincing him otherwise.

"What?" Vincent was flabbergasted and Cleo waved it off as not being used to Thomas's stubborn personality.

"I made a promise to Minho. I wouldn't leave him behind. I have to go after him." That was the response Cleo was looking forward. Silently, she began gathering her things.

Vincent wasn't convinced, "Hey, kid, look around you. All right? Wicked just kicked our ass," Mary came to mind and Cleo wanted to berate his choice of words, "You think about where you're headed."

Thomas nodded, _no convincing,_ "I'm not asking anyone to come with me."

This time, Newt stood up, "Thomas, listen to me. I've known Minho for," He paused to shake his head, "Well, as long as I can remember. So if there was any way that we could help him, trust me, I would be up there standing next to you. This, what you're talking about, is impossible."

Vincent scoffed, "More like suicide."

"Minho would do the same for any of us," Cleo noted, eyes shifting towards her as she pushed to her feet, "No matter what the possibilities were, whether he died or not, Minho would go back for us. We have to do the same for him."

"It's not just about Minho," Thomas added, "It's about all of us. It's about everyone Wicked's ever taken, everyone they will take. They'll never stop," He swallowed, "They'll never stop, so I'm gonna stop them. I'm gonna kill Ava Page."

This was exactly the kind of answer Cleo was looking for.

"I have to admit," Harriet had finally spoke, standing alongside Vincent with an impressed smirk on her face, "I'd like some revenge."

Cleo could see the gears turning in Vincent's mind. She searched for a common ground, something, anything to get him on board. Blinking, she realized there was something she could use. Turning to face him fully, she looked him in the eyes.

"We lost people. Innocent people." And while she had made the statement vague, she knew immediately that he understood. They looked at once another for a moment longer before he turned to Thomas.

"Well, that's a good speech, kid," Thomas smiled a bit, "So, what's your plan?"

* * *

 **Holy Moses! It's finally done! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, and anything else that you can possibly do. It was all greatly appreciated and I hope you guys enjoyed it! I have to toot my own horn a bit and say, I'm actually proud of myself for finishing this story. I tend to get sidetracked and then forget all together, but I managed to not only finish the first one but also the second and I'm excited to work on the third.**

 **As for other writings, I have a few drabbles typed up but I wanna get a couple more before I post anything. So expect them in the future but there is no set date. I'm also working on a playlist if anyone is interested in that. I'll post an update on this to let you guys know about both of those. If you have any requests for what you want me to write about or a song or anything, shoot me a PM! Also, I've gone through and started editing chapters for both this story and the first one, Within, once I'm finished with that, I'll replace old ones with new ones. And I think that's all!**

 **Thanks again so much for your wonderful support! Xx**


	16. Author's Note 3

Hey guys, just a quick little Author's Note to let you know I'm still here. I haven't given up or forgotten about this story, I've just hit a bit of a writer's block. I've got some bits written out, but I want to go back through and edit/rewrite them. I want to have a handful done so I can post on a schedule and not sporadic, like I'm known for doing. That being said, it might be a couple more weeks before I have anything posted.

Also, if you guys want anything specific, scenes, alternative scenes, AUs, whatever you want to see/read, send them to me! It would be greatly appreciated and help a lot with my writer's block. And if you have any title suggestions. I have no idea what to call these drabble things.

Thank you for your patience and for following the stories. It means so much! Sorry it's taking me a while. Xx - Kay


	17. The Last Author's Note for WLO

New Story will be up sometime today. It'll be called Within Series Side Stories and Deleted Scenes! Sorry it took so long! Xx - Kay


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